Bella's Point Of View
Charlie hadn't woken me up for school today. Instead, I woke up to the sunlight pouring in through the closed bathroom window, spitting happiness in my face as if it were force feeding me a drug. I spat it back. Keep your warmth to yourself...
The bathroom remained unchanged since last night. My glass of water and Advil still perched on the bathroom sink where Charlie had left it, my body still splayed on the cold bathroom floor where I had left it.
I pulled myself up from the haven I had created the night before, making sure that the same towel was covering the mirror much as it had last night. I was thankful Charlie didn't remove it, perhaps he understood me better than I had originally thought. My hand found my tooth brush, lifelessly applying the tooth paste before reflexively putting it in my mouth. Brushing my teeth was an everyday chore that I had grown used to, though today it was much different.
The more I struggled to keep myself from thinking of that night, the more vicious and rough my brushing became. At one point I noticed myself spitting out blood from the harsh abuse my gums were receiving. I rinsed my mouth with the water Charlie had left for me, before making my way to my bedroom.
Most of my clothing consisted of jeans a t-shirts, blouses and hoodies. I no longer wanted these though I couldn't exactly bring myself to toss them out. Instead I threw all the clothing I no longer could see myself in beneath my bed, the place I would keep everything I no longer wanted.
I changed into yet another set of sweats and a sweater, throwing the previously worn set into the laundry basket outside my door before entering back into my bedroom and scanning around. I made myself a promise to rid my bedroom of anything that reminded me of him, I was going to follow through with it. I, can keep promises...
The first thing to go was the bed spread. Too many nights the two of us had cuddled on top of it, wrapped up in each others arms. I angrily tore it from my bed and threw it into the hallway, unsure of what to do with such a large piece of material. Perhaps Charlie would have some use for it. The next items were the countless books I enjoyed reading so much. Wuthering Heights had been my favorite book since I could remember. Now, it was a constant reminder of those sweet words Edward had spoken to me about now being able to reason with the Heathcliff. I tossed the book into the trash, along with Pride & Prejudice, Sense & Sensibility and Mansfield Park. All books who's main male characters name was one form of Edward or another.
With a sigh, I glanced around the room. He had already taken care of the small notes I kept that he usually left me, as well as any photographs or gifts he had bought me. For this I was thankful. My eyes came to my window. The same window he stood outside every night, waiting for Charlie to fall asleep. The window he would sneak in through to spend the night with me. The window that no longer had a purpose. My hands picked up the book filled trash can and threw it with as much strength as I could muster, smashing the window effectively.
I instantly regretted the action I had done in anger, my body throwing itself to the floor, grasping at pieces of glass and tossing them into the dented trash can beside me. Charlie wouldn't be angry, there was no way he would think of saying anything to me as it was. The zombie that had taken over his daughters body frightened him. My hand clutched a piece of glass far too tightly, slicing through my skin as if it were warm butter. The sharpness of the glass caused very little pain, and very much blood.
I could smell the warm liquid well before I could see or feel it oozing from my hand. My eyes instantly clamping shut as I darted out of my bedroom blindly, and back into the safe haven of a bathroom. I had cut myself many times in the past, so taking care of it was no problem. Running it under water long enough to wrap a small towel around my hand would surely keep everything under control. That is exactly what I did. I didn't bother to open my eyes to clean the sink of the blood, my emptied stomach couldn't handle it at this point. Instead I made my way out of the bathroom and away from the dangers of my bedroom and down the stairs.
Charlie wasn't home, though his gun and his jacket were. The had probably gone down to Billy Blacks for the day, especially since the only bathroom in the house was being used as a bed by his broken daughter... This was his second day missing work because of me...
I walked into the kitchen, glancing at the cereal I had once craved. My stomach lurched the same way it had yesterday morning, begging me to pry my gaze away from it. Doing as my body wanted, my gaze fell on a note Charlie had left me, declaring he had in fact gone to Billy's for the day. My father had to escape is own house because of me...
I knew I would have to talk to him, assure him I was okay, even though I wasn't. He couldn't keep missing work, or leaving the house to use the bathroom, I had to start thinking of him. Grabbing my trucks keys, I walked out the front door. My hands instantly pulling my hood up over my head as a last ditch effort to escape the sun that for once, shone in Forks. My truck remained unchanged, although everything else in my life was altered in someway or another. My bedroom, my father, my heart. I was glad to at least have one thing remain the same. I started the truck, not-quite-smiling at the loud purring it offered in response.
It took me a little longer than usual to make my way down to La Push, the thrill of driving fast was in the garbage can in my bedroom along with every other aspect of being with him. Instead, I took my time and admired all the things I hated about Forks. The green of the plants and moss, the wetness of the ground, the cold sting of the air. All things I had hated since first landing here, yet all things I had grown to love.
The green soon began growing in brightness as I neared the "rez", the paved road turning to dirt as I drove down to what I remembered as Billy Black's home. Charlies police cruiser was parked out front, the two men sitting out in the sun with a beer in their hand. For the first time in three days, my father smiled.
I climbed out of the large truck, waving a 'hello' to Billy before shoving one of my hands into the pocket in my sweats, the other still wrapped in a blood soaked towel. Charlie opened his mouth to ask what happened, but I had beaten him to the punch.
"Just a piece of glass, I'll clean it up when I get home..." I wasn't sure when that would be. I wasn't ready to situate myself back into the bedroom I had once owned.
"Don't worry about it, Bells, I'll take care of it. We don't want you losing a finger or two in the process." Charlie always found my clumsiness humorous. Apparently Billy did as well.
A fourth presence shifted from it's standing place at the corner of the small house, smiling awkwardly with his hands deep in his jean pockets. Jacob smiled in my direction, Charlie soon cutting in.
"Why don't you two take a walk down the beach, I doubt us old men have anything interesting for you to listen to." He was right, one of the last things I wanted to do was sit on the sunny front lawn, listening to the men talk about their now mutual dislike for the Cullen's. I could barely think the name, let alone listen to it.
I didn't exactly reply, though I really didn't need to. Jacob took the invitation as it came and walked past me, leading the way down to the beach. I followed behind him, enjoying the quiet that settled between us. My sneakered feet soon found the sand, causing a weird, sinking feeling. It was odd how surprising the feeling was, when it's all I had been doing these past few days... sinking...
"I'm sorry about your boyfriend, and your hand..." Jacob's smile made my insides sting more than his words. There was something so insincere about it, almost... happy that they were gone. It wasn't a secret that those on the reserve disliked the Cullen's, but they could at least be polite about it. I only nodded in response. "This gives us a good time to... you know, talk..."
Jacob and I apparently had been good friends when we were younger, though I remembered very little about that. Since my return, he had been fairly eager to see me, to talk to me. I liked it, liked knowing at least one person was interested in being my friend.
"Talking's...good." My mouth betrayed me, the words hypocritical. If talking was so good, why hadn't I done it all week? Perhaps the aspect of listening was more appealing than actually contributing to the conversation. I was interested in what he had to say, since I heard from him so very little.
"I was just thinking that we could get together, as friends sometime."his feet kicked the sand, his eyes watching them do so, refusing to look at me. He was nervous, it was adorable. "Maybe the movies or something, as friends?" I nodded. He smiled.
The drive home and gone by much slower than the drive to La Push. Charlie tailed behind me, making my driving nervous. I made it home alive, much to my helpless begging of death. I no longer had the pleasant distraction of a friend, no longer had the sand beneath my feet to prove I wasn't actually sinking. I was home, a hell like no other.
Once inside, Charlie began looking for the glass I had cut myself on. I let out a soft sigh to catch his attention, my eyes finding his. It was time to lie to him.
"I'm okay, dad... really." I even practiced a smile in the truck while driving home, careful not to let him see it in the review mirror. It felt awkward on my lips, but vaguely familiar. He seemed to have bought it, returning the smile and nodding once before making his way upstairs to clean up my mess. I wish he could clean everything...
I couldn't bring myself to return upstairs, even after Charlie had finished cleaning up and made his way to his own bedroom for a nights sleep. Instead, I collapsed on the sofa, curling up into the safe ball I often found myself in. Protecting myself from whatever pain was waiting for me.
For the first time in three days, I cried. I cried for what we had, for what I lost, for the things I longed for. I cried for myself, for him... God, I wanted him... I cried.