A/N- This chapter contains emotional abuse and physical abuse. Please consider this when you decide to read.

I have been honored by the one and only Dollybigmomma who Beta'd this chapter and is an absolute angel. Give her work a look!

Thank you for reading, please consider reviewing?

Bella

The sound of the front door slamming brought me out of my deep sleep instantly. I couldn't even be relieved I hadn't dreamed because I realized what time it was.

Oh god. Charlie's home, and I've been sleeping. I didn't cook, I didn't clean. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…

"Bella?" he called into the house, his low voice turning it into a bellow.

I rolled out of bed quickly, the room spinning. With a sick feeling, I realized I hadn't even closed my bedroom door, not that it would have helped anything, but I didn't have time to worry about that now. I hurried down the stairs, my grip on the railing the only thing keeping me from tumbling to the bottom.

"I'm so sorry, Ch- Dad, I was…um…doing homework." I don't know why I lied, it just slipped out. If Charlie was anything like Phil- which Phil had assured me he was- he could tell I was lying instantly, or at the very least would find out. He was a cop, for fuck's sake.

"Oh, that's alright, Bells, I wasn't expecting you to be waiting for me or anything. I think I'll order us a pizza tonight, what do you think?" He took off his tool belt and hung it by the front door.

I was stunned. Phil would have never let it go that easily. Even if he had wanted pizza in the first place, it would have been the fact that I wasn't ready if he didn't that would be an issue.

Oh fuck, Phil! I nearly felt the need to hurl, as I realized I hadn't called him or Renee after school.

"Pepperoni okay?" Charlie looked at me, his voice the picture of pure innocence.

I nodded wordlessly, continuing down the stairs slowly and into the kitchen to finish the dishes from that morning. I had a headache, and the lights seemed too bright, but I wouldn't risk angering him further. Maybe he would finally do something when he was drunk, or at night. There were a few times, before Phil had turned completely, where bits of his true self would show through his façade; like when he was drunk or tired.

Right on time, Charlie grabbed two beers from the fridge, and I tensed for a second before continuing on the dishes. If he was going to get drunk and wail on me, I would need to get my homework done first. I finished the dishes and quietly snuck up to my room.

I fished my phone out of my backpack and turned it on. I usually left it off during school, and in my fatigue, I'd forgotten to turn it back on. Immediately, my phone began buzzing with the onslaught of messages from Renee and notifications of missed phone calls.

I skipped the previous messages and went straight to the most recent. It was from my mother, and read, "Phil says call at 8, be ready for a lesson." I cringed and looked at the clock. I still had a couple of hours before then, so I would have to wait. The panic made me run to the bathroom, my body heaving, but I hadn't had enough food to throw anything up. I tried to be as quiet as I could, not wanting Charlie to find me in such a vulnerable position. Luckily, he didn't seem to hear. When I was younger, any time I got sick, even when I tried not to show it, Phil would always manage to sniff it out. I didn't know if he really went harder on me at those times, but it always felt like he did. The beatings felt longer, they felt more brutal, and it felt like it took longer to recover.

It also felt like he tormented me more. If he came home and found me shivering and coughing, he made sure I cleaned the house top to bottom, more often than when I wasn't sick. I always did everything I could to hide any illness from Phil, and I was fully prepared to hide it from Charlie as well. When my body finally stopped squeezing me to death, I sat back, not bothering to move from the floor. I caught my breath and gulped some water directly from the faucet, rinsing my mouth of the bile I had managed to squeeze from my stomach. After the traces of my fit had been rinsed away, I hurried back to my room, quietly closing the door behind me.

I tried to occupy my mind with the busywork we had been given, but there was too much anxiety, too many questions unanswered. What lesson would Phil try to teach me via video call? How bad would my mom get it for my carelessness in forgetting to check in after my first day? Not to mention my troubles with Charlie…

When would Charlie snap? What would cause it? What would he end up doing to me? Would he tell Phil something? That I deserved it? Phil had said he would check with Charlie, and if I was disobeying, then he would take it out on my mom, probably worse than he would tonight.

I tried to focus on my homework until I heard the doorbell and spotted a delivery car outside. Charlie must've met the guy at the door because I saw the delivery guy get into his car and leave.

"Bella, pizza's here!" Charlie called up to me, and then there was silence.

I went downstairs and saw that Charlie had taken a plate of pizza into the living room with him, leaving the box open on the kitchen table. I wasn't sure how he felt about me eating in my room, so I quickly ate a slice while standing by the table. I didn't want to eat, but I knew that if Charlie paid attention to my food the way Phil did, he would punish me for not eating, even if it was pizza.

If Phil knew I was eating pizza, he would torment me relentlessly, warning me not to gain too much weight, or he wouldn't have a reason to keep me around. Though I was still hungry, I stopped after one thin slice. Besides, my stomach was still unsettled after my previous event, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to keep my single piece down anyway.

I returned to my room upstairs and again checked the time. I set an alarm on my phone for five minutes before 8:00 p.m., so I could be ready. I threw myself into my homework, trying my best to not check the clock every few minutes, though I was sadly failing.

When the alarm on my phone finally went off, I jumped, despite having watched the time slowly, painfully tick away.

I opened up my computer and booted up the program. I again watched the clock, and as 7:59 p.m. turned to 8:00 p.m., I hit the call button. The call was answered almost immediately, Renee's face filling the screen. She set her phone down against what I assumed to be the TV in the living room, and then she sat on the couch with Phil.

He sat casually, leaned back, arms stretched out across the back of the couch. Renee was being meek, though, and I was sure he had put on this casual façade just for me. Lucky me.

"Hello, Isabella, how was your first day of school?" His voice was so calm. I was sure he saw my headphones, but he was talking in a way anyone would think that what he was asking was a perfectly innocent, even polite, question. I knew he was trying to get me to let my guard down. I wouldn't.

"It was alright. Some people tried to help me find my way to classes, but it was simple enough, so I didn't need their help." I had chosen my words carefully. I was telling him the truth, partially anyway. I was implying that I was keeping to myself, which I was, but not to the extent Phil would have me, though. If he had it his way, I would never utter a word to another person and would stay in the shadows. But that wasn't how life worked.

"Oh yeah? Did you see any familiar faces?" What he meant was, "Did you see your old friends?" I could answer that one honestly.

"Not really. I recognized some people from kindergarten, but I could barely remember their names, just Angela, but Jessica had to remind me of her name." Partial truth again. I wouldn't bring up Mike unless I absolutely had to.

"Ah, I remember Angela, she was always a very nice girl," Renee piped up, and Phil gave her the smallest, nastiest look.

"Well, if you had such a nice day, why didn't you bother letting us know when you got home? What were you so preoccupied with that you couldn't call us?" His anger was starting to seep through his words. It was coming.

"I'm sorry, Phil, I had my phone off during school, and I forgot to turn it back on when I got home. I was doing homework." Again, careful wording. Both statements were true, but I didn't need him to know I had fallen asleep when I'd gotten home. He would call me lazy and demand I get back to work.

"Don't, if I need to reach you, you'd better be reachable, do you understand?" He sat forward now, glaring at me. I could nearly feel his evil stare from all these miles away. It made me instinctively turn my look down, avoiding eye contact.

"Yes, Phil. I'm sorry. I'll leave my phone on from now on." Despite my urges, I made sure not to murmur, Phil hated that.

"You'd better. But I think we need to make sure this lesson sticks." Phil stood up and got closer to the camera. "If I notice you looking away, I'm only going to make it worse for her. You don't want to do that to your mother, do you, Isabella?" I shook my head, too afraid my voice would fail me.

"Good girl." He smiled evilly, and the punishment began. Renee tried to stay calm, knowing that too much reaction just made him angrier, but none at all was even worse. I started tearing up. It wasn't the first time I'd been forced to just watch Renee get beaten, but it hurt each and every time. I felt so sickeningly guilty, the single piece of pizza in my stomach threatening to make a reappearance, but I forced it down. If I threw up, my mom would get it even worse. I believed what Phil said, of course I did. He'd done it before. The beating seemed to take hours, but by the time he was done, only half an hour had passed.

Phil left my mom curled up on the floor and picked up her phone. "I went easy since it was your first infraction. Make sure it's your last." Before I could agree, Phil hung up. I could see my reflection on the black screen, and I saw that the tears had managed to escape, rolling down my cheeks.

Slamming the laptop shut, I angrily wiped the tears off my face. I wouldn't let myself cry. Nothing had even happened to me, I was being weak, and selfish. It was my mom who had been beaten, not me. These tears were not deserved.

I went to the bathroom to splash cold water onto my face, forcing myself to calm down. I had homework to do. These stupid feelings were a waste of time and energy. I had to keep my grades up, or Renee would get it even worse. I had seen her broken, unable to go in to work for days before. I'd be damned if I would be the cause of it. Especially with schoolwork, something I could control. I gave myself a serious look in the mirror, something I was all too used to seeing from Phil.

I needed to move past it. Besides, I had Charlie to worry about now.

The whole evening, I tried to focus, my mind unwilling to stop listening for Charlie's feet on the stairs. I had made it through most of my homework before I finally heard it. The thumping of his feet. I quickly hid my homework and moved from the desk. Phil would occasionally tear up my homework if he was too tired to beat on me, or if he just felt like it, ensuring I would have to stay up to redo it or risk my grades.

When the thumps stopped outside my door, I found myself holding my breath. Waiting. Listening. But the thumps resumed, moving to the bathroom, the door closing. I let my breath out, but I didn't yet relax. Maybe he just wanted to keep me waiting. Maybe he wanted a shower first. Maybe…

The toilet flushed, the sink turned on, and before I knew it, Charlie was in his room. No yelling, no threats, no anything.

I made myself calm down, and I went back to my homework cautiously. I finished, still not believing Charlie wouldn't come for me. I changed quickly and got into bed, not bothering to brush my teeth, in case that was when he would decide to strike. I preferred to take my beatings near soft furniture.

I stayed there most of the night, unable to relax enough to get any quality sleep. At least at Phil's, I was able to sleep. I had figured out more of his moods and patterns, and I could hear if he was starting in on my mom. If he was, I knew he wouldn't be coming to me that night. On the odd day he didn't get on either of us, his loud snoring would let me know when he was down for the night.

But with Charlie, I wasn't sure of anything. He hadn't shown any anger, even any annoyance. It was worse, in a way. Truly anything could happen.

Maybe nothing will happen, the smallest, quietest part of my brain suggested, and I shoved it down quickly. Of course, something would happen, it always happened. Getting hopeful would only make the snap hurt worse.