A/N- This chapter has references to physical abuse and a LOT of emotional abuse/manipulation. Please consider this when deciding to read the chapter.

This chapter was once again retroactively Beta'd by the magnanimous Dollybigmomma, please consider checking out her work. Once again, she advises me on grammar but the final decisions are mine, so don't think poorly of her based on my choices.

Thank you for reading, please consider reviewing?

Bella

Soon after moving to Phoenix, my mother met Phil. He had such an open face, his smile always wide, and his eyes bright. He was so kind. He brought me toys and my mom flowers. I had never seen my mom smile so much. We moved in with him, and they got married. I got to be the flower girl. I had a pretty dress. It was powder blue and poofy, the skirt perfect for spinning. I spun and spun all night. I danced with Phil and my mom. We were happy.

The pictures were still up on the wall of the living room, and I cursed them every day I saw them. In the photo was a young girl, dark hair in corkscrew curls, and crooked bangs she had cut herself with safety scissors. She had a missing tooth, which she showed off with a smile so big it nearly took up her whole face. She had a healthy glow, pale skin colored by spending half her life outside. Beneath her dress, her knees were surely bandaged or scabbed, having taken a beating from her outdoor adventuring. She stood between her newly married mother and stepfather, their smiles nearly as goofy and overjoyed as the young girl's.

At that point, we didn't know the kind of man Phil would turn out to be. We didn't know that those pictures would end up taunting us from their position on the mantle. For several years, things continued in our new state of normalcy. I lived with my mother and Phil during the school year, spending all my breaks and holidays visiting my father and friends in Forks. I was always a bit more distant with my friends after that, since we knew our time was limited.

Phil changed, he got worse and worse, so slowly that I didn't know if he had always been evil or had become it. I used to think about it a lot. Maybe he kept up a front, letting it down over the course of years and years. Maybe he really was the nice man my mom had met and married, but he became the monster he was now.

It didn't really matter much anymore. It didn't change our reality either way. Whether born or created, Phil was what he was now, and we just needed to endure it.

Over the years, the happiness drained from our home. Sometimes, the changes were barely noticeable: smiles lasting just a millisecond less than the day before. Sometimes, it came in one big wave: a new rule put into place, or a line previously uncrossed swiftly trampled over. By the time I had turned seventeen, there was no joy left.

Refocusing my eyes from the family photo, I saw the reflection of who I had become. Bruises now took the place of the scabs. While my skin was not often broken these days, the blood vessels beneath seemed always to be in a cycle of breaking and healing. Despite living exclusively in constant sunshine, I had kept myself indoors to the point that my skin, always trending towards paleness, was now nearly transparent. Dark hair now limp and dull, the curved smile now straightened, but long gone except for show in public to ward off rumors. True ones.

I had been naive back then. I'd thought the world was a warm, happy place, full of kind people and sunshine. I knew better now; I couldn't trust people. Especially men. As much as Phil hurt me, he taught me as well, often by example. I knew now that if it weren't him hurting us, it would have been someone else. Maybe it would have been another man my naive mom would have fallen for. Maybe Charlie, had we stayed with him. At least Phil was honest about what he was.

Though, it still could be someone else, in addition to Phil. It was why he made sure to teach me to never be too polite to boys and men. He said he wanted to keep me safe from strangers who had no reason not to take it too far, but I knew he also wanted to keep what he considered his. I just wanted as little pain and suffering as possible, so of course, I obliged.

Phil said there was something about me and my mother, as if our presence invited violence from men, like we were a sort of magnet for it. Girls who were prettier, more kind, smarter…those girls got the few kind men who existed, and should a cruel man find them, he would also find a girl like me to be cruel to. I wasn't good enough for a man to withhold his anger and brutality, like they did with those girls.

Still, I thought maybe it would have been nice to have somewhere safe from them. A safe place to go home to. Where the cruel men of the outside world couldn't follow. A moment of respite, even if it meant worse, though only occasional, mistreatment by strangers.

Though, it sometimes seemed hard to imagine how strangers could make it worse. It had been a particularly difficult night of lessons from Phil, and as always, it led to me retreating into my mind. I arrived at school and sat down just before the bell rang. I found myself floating through school, barely paying attention to what was going on around me. All I could think of was how time was counting down. Every moment was a moment closer to returning to Phil.

I was making a list in my head for what I could make for dinner. Phil hadn't liked his breakfast today. His coffee had been too cold because he had woken up late, something Renee was supposed to have prevented. It wouldn't matter to him, though, the punishment would be given all the same. Maybe if I made him a meal he really liked, he wouldn't be as upset, maybe it could replace the memory of the breakfast for him. Like that would work. But I had to try. I had to at least attempt to find a way to ease it.

I was jostled by the crowd around me, and I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. Make a plan, make a plan, make a plan. We had some steaks in the freezer, but there was no way to get them thawed by the time Phil got home, let alone cooked. Maybe I could stop by the store on my way home. It was only a few blocks out of the way, maybe-

I felt a body collide with mine, and my world went black.

I was stiff, and it was too bright. Not entirely unusual, as Phil sometimes left me in the living room if I couldn't make it to my room at night.

A night…which one? I couldn't remember what had happened. My memories were a jumbled haze, and I fought hard against a wave of nausea that hit me. I was at…school? My history class had ended, and I was heading to the library to do some homework during my lunch period, but then…nothing.

I opened my eyes and saw a woman at the foot of my bed. No, not my bed, a hospital bed. The room smelled faintly of bleach. The sheets were scratchy against my legs. Which…were exposed due to the gown I was in. Well…shit. At the foot of the hospital bed was a nurse who was looking down at a clipboard, her brows furrowed, like some kind of puzzle was refusing to be solved.

When she noticed I was awake, she got a doctor to come see me. I was told that I had freaked out on someone who had bumped into me in the halls. I'd beaten them, screaming until they pushed me off, and my head had cracked against the floor.

I didn't know why it had happened. I couldn't even imagine it. While I had blacked out before, I had never done anything during it. I had a type of auto pilot I could go into when things were really too much, but I was always somewhat aware, able to form memories. And beating someone…I couldn't imagine that either. I stayed cold towards strangers, but I was never, ever violent, not even to push someone away. I knew violence could cause further retaliation. Another lesson from Phil.

I had been taken to the hospital, and they had examined me while I was passed out. I was covered in bruises, of course. My mom had visited me, but Phil had stayed away. They threatened to call child protective services, my bruises were too old, too numerous, and too well placed to be an accident. Even many accidents. Of course, there was no way to explain my behavior at the school when I had attacked someone.

They had many questions, and many thinly veiled accusations. But Renee said nothing. I said nothing. When we were alone, neither of us said anything. I'd guess they didn't think they could get anything to stick without us saying anything. Phil had trained us well. As soon as they discharged me, Renee took me home.

At the house, the tension was so thick that Renee and I were scared even to breathe. Phil had never come so close to being found out before. Of course, Renee and I never said anything, knowing that a confession from one would lead to the punishment of us both. Best case scenario, I would end up in the hands of another man, whose violence would be unknown. Better the devil you know, and all that.

Renee and I barely said a word, as we went around the kitchen preparing dinner. Phil said nothing either, didn't even demand one of us grab him another beer. He just sat in the living room, watching a baseball game with the volume so low, I knew it was just so he could listen in case we spoke.

While we were afraid of his rage, he tended to keep a tighter lid on it when something like this happened, when we got too close to someone seeing the truth. It wasn't a guarantee, though, hence why we were tiptoeing around. Occasionally, it only made him madder, and he would lash out, though always so controlled, so we didn't have yet another close call.

It always seemed so bizarre to me. People at the hospital couldn't really be so naive after witnessing all the things they likely saw. So what if I got taken from Phil? They acted as though I wouldn't face similar treatment no matter where I went. It could happen at school, in a bar, even in a parking lot at a grocery store. So long as there were men, the chance of being beaten was never zero.

As we finally sat down to dinner, Phil still said nothing. Renee, always the one to break the silence, said, "Phil, how was your day?"

His stare could've cut glass. "Well, my day was fine, until I heard about how my whore of a stepdaughter attacked someone at school and then collapsed. How would you like to explain that one, Isabella?" he spat at me, and Renee's eyes turned apologetic. That was why I didn't like to break the tension, it rarely ended well, but Renee was never good at enduring the anticipation.

"I don't know what happened, I don't remember it happening." I kept my head down. It was the wrong move. It would have been the wrong move to look him in the eyes, too. There was no winning.

He smacked his hand on the table, causing the silverware to clank against his plate. I looked up at him. "What a convenient excuse," he nearly growled, a tone so hateful I had hardly heard it before, and only in the gravest of circumstances.

"It won't happen again," I said softly. It was a promise I knew I couldn't uphold, but there was nothing else I could do. I didn't even remember the incident, let alone have control of it.

"No, it won't," Phil announced, his tone something different now, something I couldn't quite figure out.

After a long silence I could feel Renee itching to break, Phil said, "I think it's time you see your father, Isabella." That made me freeze. Phil hadn't let me see Charlie since I was twelve.

I looked at my mother slowly, not sure what to do. If I was too eager, he would surely rip it away. Or maybe he was lying to me just to get my hopes up. There was no telling with Phil.

"A visit? When?" I tried to keep my voice calm, not too eager.

"No, not a visit, I was thinking maybe you should get out of our hair." He took a bite of his meal, leaning back in his chair casually, like he hadn't just dropped a bomb.

Electricity filled my body. I wasn't sure if it was panic, fear, suspicion, or maybe even excitement, a feeling I tried to keep at bay. Why? What did this mean? Was I going to be free of Phil? What about my mom?

My mom, as delicate as a flyswatter, said, "Are you trying to send her away?"

"Isabella has caused us quite a bit of trouble. She's getting people to check up on us, and she's fighting at school. I've been nice enough to let her stay with us for this long, but I'm starting to think she's incorrigible. I've tried everything I could, but none of my lessons have stuck."

I cringed, the word lessons in this instance standing in for both the things he had taught me, as well as the beatings and worse that often accompanied them. That caught his attention, but I stayed quiet, looking at the little bit of food on my plate. Was I supposed to be happy? Probably, but what about my mother? If he didn't have me to beat on, too, would she get it worse?

I didn't say anything, of course I didn't, he didn't ask for my opinion, and he didn't care. His mind had been made up before he'd ever said anything.

"Renee, call Charlie. Make it happen. Soon." And that was all he said. He resumed eating, finished talking, for the night if we were lucky. My mother and I looked at each other nervously. There was no room to ask questions. It wasn't up for debate. Per usual, our new reality came much without warning, and without our input.

I didn't go to school for the rest of the week. I wasn't sure if that was Phil's decision or the school's. I packed slowly, still unsure if Phil would take it back. He always jerked around my privileges; he liked watching me get excited, then taking it away. It was one of the few cruelties I'd really gotten used to. I didn't let myself get excited anymore.

Renee, for once letting the silence stay unbothered, walked around cautiously, practically tiptoeing so as to not be heard. Phil didn't shout, the recent scare too serious to risk it, apparently. They had gotten a full view of me, more than they'd ever had before. I guessed that did send up more red flags than the occasional broken arm or twisted ankle.

There were only a few items I considered precious, important. Only an ancient copy of The Tale of Peter Rabbit, nestled inside was a piece of paper, an old friend's home phone number and an email scribbled in the handwriting of a child. I hadn't looked at it for years, but I had both memorized, not that I had used either since I was about thirteen.

Inside the book was a strip of photos of Renee and me, taken in the short time between moving to Arizona and meeting Phil. There were a few other photos, all from the pre-Phil era, or from the few summers I'd gotten to spend in Forks without him. The only reason they were still intact was because they were hidden in a book, one that Phil had never caught me reading. And last, I had a small bracelet that hadn't fit me in years. It was a worn piece of leather with a small, hand-carved wooden wolf charm on it, another token from a friend long gone. I was sure he would be different now…puberty ruined boys, of course. But it was still nice to have, a reminder of a friendship unmarred by crushes and lust and selfish desires.

It had been so easy back then, with Jake. I had run through the woods with his friends, the only thing making me different being the color of my skin, and the frequency in which I tripped. I wasn't a girl, and they weren't boys. Hell, I'd even taken my shirt off to swim like they had when we'd come across a lake in the woods, and we hadn't brought our swimsuits. It made me queasy to imagine what it would be like now.

I put those precious items in the very bottom of the bag, wrapped in a hoodie. I had somehow managed to keep some things from Phil after all these years, and if he saw me interact with them, he would surely know how important they were to me, and he would take them. I didn't feel safe until the hoodie with my personal items was buried underneath piles of other clothes that I was sure would be too cold for Washington.

I loaded my backpack with my books I cared less about, but I wanted them under my protection all the same. I wasn't sure if Charlie was the kind to destroy items, but I knew Phil would if I did something to upset him enough, and he didn't get all his anger out on Renee.

Just then, Phil appeared in my doorway. He didn't say anything, just gave me his cruel look, closing the door behind him.

He then said he needed to remind me before I left for Forks about all the rules and lessons he had drilled into me over the past years, with new and updated ones to fit my new living situation, as he called it.

Any and all punishments I would deserve would be given to my mother in my absence. I would get them all the next time I came to visit, which I would have to do on every available holiday.

I also had to stay good. That meant constant check-ins and updates. It also meant I had to follow all of Charlie's rules as well, and that Phil and Renee would be checking with him to make sure I wasn't lying with my updates.

"Remember, though, Isabella, I can see right through you, I can see your lies and deception, so don't even try it, or another lesson will be waiting for you here. I know you'll be around all your old friends, but don't think it'll be safe. They changed, and so did you. They'll see what you are now, and they'll see the same target on your back that all men do. I will know if you get too comfortable, and if they don't teach you better, I will." He brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear and put a finger under my chin, making me lock eyes with him.

"Do you understand, Isabella?" His breath smelled like stale beer. I nodded, and he smiled, adding, "Good girl," before leaving the room. My breath, which seemed to perpetually be strangled in his presence, escaped in a ragged, almost relieved exhale. Almost.

Besides that warning, he didn't lay a hand on me again, something I was grateful for, even if it was only so my body would be a blank slate for the next violent man to come along.

At the end of the week, I grabbed my bags and put them in the car, Phil taking us to the airport. There was silence once again as he drove us, the tension so thick even I had a hard time not cutting through it.

I didn't have much in the way of possessions, which at least made the airport easier. I only had a small duffle bag, bulging at the seams with my clothes, and a backpack full of books. It was better that way. I wasn't sure if Phil would have been willing to pay if I'd had more bags.

I hugged Renee, closing my eyes to take in the sensation. Hers was the only touch I'd had in a long time that didn't lead to pain. Our relationship had changed as Phil had changed. Renee, who had once been my protective and loving - though flighty - mother, had turned into more of a peer. When Phil turned his violent attention to me, and my mother had stopped deterring him, she had become Renee. Despite this, I still loved her. I was still scared for her fate once I got on that plane.

"I'm sorry," I whispered in her ear, finding myself near tears. The feelings I had been keeping at bay flooded me all at once. I only had to keep them in check for a few minutes more. Soon, I could cry in the plane's bathroom. Phil didn't like to see our tears, and I didn't want to be the reason he turned on Renee so soon, though I doubted either of us could really prevent it. He had been holding back for too long, and he would surely snap the moment they arrived home, if not earlier.

We pulled out of our hug, and she looked at me, her eyes also shining with unshed tears. "Oh honey, don't you worry. I'll be okay, and we'll see each other again soon. Thanksgiving will be here before you know it." She backed up, standing next to Phil, who raised a single hand to me, a wave.

"You be good to your dad, Isabella." His words were innocent enough to the strangers around us, but I knew what he meant. He was reminding me that my actions had consequences, and now I would be receiving those consequences from Charlie, however he saw fit.

I nodded before turning, heading towards the plane that would take me to my new life.