Author's Note: Sorry about not updating in a couple of days. I've been busy lately and I just haven't been up to writing until now. Being in emotional turmoil is always the perfect time to get the creative juices flowing. But anyway, here's chapter four! Enjoy!

I do not own Twilight.

Chapter 4: Reconciliation

The school day seemed to end quicker after Paul walked with me to class. Within that time and the time I had with him during Physical Education as well, I was able to see he was at least 2 inches taller than me with a slim body, much calmer than the guys had described him as, and extremely good with sports. This kid was starting to surprise me more and more. Something told me he was going to be trouble though. A part of me just... felt something for him.

But all the thoughts of school and Paul had come to a halt as I slowly made my way home to my mother. The question I was dreading to ask was on my mind now. Reality had began to seep in instead of the events of school. Except for this morning... How on earth was I going to bring that up? 'Oh mom, the receptionist of my school was upset to know my last name is Uley. Do you know why?' Then again, I had no other way to phrase it. But honestly, the thing I'm dread more is how she'll react to the question itself. She's never the type to take things lightly or have the ability to comprehend and actually show understanding. She was stubborn. As stubborn as a mule, actually. Any thought or belief she had was correct to her, no matter how ridiculous. And even if someone tried correcting her, she'd be so sure of herself being right. She'd make her point by lashing out. I winced as I remembered a memory of how angry she was when I corrected her about this math problem in 4th grade. Almost subconsciously I began to rub the spot on my cheek where she had enough force to draw blood.

I sighed, taking in as much air as I put out. I had to do this. I needed an answer.

The journey seemed to cut shorter than I realize because before I was even aware of it, I had arrived in front of the small cottage in its already withering glory. The porch was falling apart with its aging wood, the windows were left untouched but the rest of the house was aged. Furnished at least, with white sheets sheathing it from viewing. All in all, you could say it was sturdy but its vibe was different. It didn't have the most welcoming feel, nor was it even close to the other houses in the area. Actually it sat close to the edge of the forest, away from everyone else; its seclusion brought the obvious thought that my father must've been anti-social as well as a slight pang of fear that my mother was aware of its distance from everyone else. And to be frank, I did not trust that one bit, or her for that matter. Which was a no brainer since all my mother has done for me is abuse me - both, physically and mentally.

I entered the still foreign home, "Mom? I'm home from school." Slowly, I made my way towards the kitchen. It was 3 in the afternoon, meaning she would be there drinking no less. But much to my surprise, she wasn't. She was standing by the counter, her 5'5" frame was covered by her blue robe with her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Her usual narrowed brown eyes were relaxed, another new physical feature of hers. Her gaze fixed itself on me.

"How was it?" Her voice sounded expectantly as her brow raised.

"Fine." I answered slowly, contemplating how I should go about asking her of the strange encounter between Miss Allison and I this morning. "This morning was interesting."

She nodded and the look she held told me to go on. I sucked in a small breath and continued, "I bumped into Sam this morning," I said, deciding to start out light instead of going completely abrupt with the question I was itching to ask. She seemed to tense at hearing about Sam, which wasn't too strange but she never really had a problem with him until fourth grade. That day was pretty vague for me, I could barely remember much of it. Probably explaining my lack of recognition in him this morning. Regardless, ever since then I never saw him until now. She continued to nod, waiting for me to go on as she walked towards the cupboards in search of her daily drink something I'm sure she was doing. We barely moved in, so my hope was she didn't have any. It'd be bad if she had alcohol in her system, especially for me since this conversation wasn't going to go well. A pang of anxiety coursed throughout my body and I began to freeze until my mot here's pointed gaze met mine. "He showed me where the office was. And the receptionist, Miss Allison," She tensed up again. "was pretty nice. Kinda weird though."

"What do you mean?" Her voice cautious.

Here goes nothing. I thought with a mental sigh.

"Well, she was searching for my schedule on her desk and when she came across it, she reacted weirdly to my last name..." I said, my once strong and confident voice fading into a softer and smaller tone.

"Greene?" She questioned, her brows furrowed at the aspect of one acting oddly toward her maiden name. She took a long swig of her now-found stashed away vodka."Why would she react weirdly to Greene?" Her body now faced me, holding the bottle tightly in her right hand.

I shook my head. "Not Greene, mom." I stated.

She stared at me, glaring actually and took another swig as if it were water."What then?" Her tone impatient and much harsher than it had been earlier. This wasn't going as well as I was hoping it would.

"Uley. She reacted weirdly to Uley." I said in a small voice.

She didn't say anything after the mention of the last name. Instead, she took tensely grasps her vodka bottle, took another swig before setting it down, and sauntered towards me. I knew what was coming. I shouldn't have even bother bringing up the conversation but I did. I thought she would've laid off with the move and all but I was wrong. Her approach felt as if it were coming in slow motion but the sting on my cheek came faster than I expected and I had to take a step back from the intensity. My mother had recoiled her hand backward and slapped me hard before letting her hand drop and a glare form on her already bloodshot eyes.

I clutched my cheek and looked down, tears were on the verge of spilling from the pain.

"Look at me." She spoke dangerously hoarse and I did. "Don't you EVER mention that last name or that fucking 'Miss Allison' again, got it?" She was seething, waiting for an answer. "Or Sam either." The way she said his name as if it were a virus or a terrible disease made my stomach roll in queasiness.

I nodded, biting my tongue to keep the tears from falling. The lump in my throat stayed and that made it harder to keep them in. And before I could control it any longer, a tear fell.

"DON'T FUCKING CRY!" She shouted and I flinched, wiping the tear frantically. "YOU DESERVED THAT AND YOU KNOW IT."

"I-I'm s-s-s-sorry." I stuttered quietly.

She smirked as if she were an Olympic gold medal winner. "You better be." She turned her back on me, walking to get her drink before going into her room. I heard the sound of her door lock from the ensuing silence in the house and I took this opportunity to go straight to my room to access the damage. I even allowed a few tears to escape from the prison of my tear ducts.

Removing my hand from my cheek, I nearly choked at what I saw - blood. She slapped me hard enough to draw blood, this revelation caused my backpack to slip from my arms and I shook it off. I shook off my cardigan, using it to wipe the blood and tears before quickly tossing it into the hamper and running into the bathroom to wash off the blood from my face.

I couldn't see the girl I saw this morning. At all.

The girl I saw had a bleeding cheek with a bright redness that contrasted greatly against my nontraditional olive skin, red almost already puffy chocolate brown eyes that no longer held the same brightness from earlier, and disheveled dark hair all around the frame of my bloodied face. I was a mess. So I quickly washed my face, undid the braids from the top halves of my head, and made my way into my room.

I needed to get out. Even if it were for a little while, I just NEEDED to get out of there. And knowing that woman, she was probably going to finish that bottle then pass out for the rest of the night. So I grabbed a hooded jacket from my closest and my house keys before quickly making my way out of that hellhole of a house and quietly locking the door behind me.

I pulled my hood up and pulling on the strings to tighten its mold to my head, I swiftly trudged my way to the beach. It wasn't far, but it wasn't so close either and that was perfectly fine with me. I needed to think. I just needed to get away.

The beach was the perfect place to do that. It was peaceful and I was happy for the open table that held a perfect view of the ocean as I sat down on top of the tabletop. The cold air stung against my cheeks, causing me to pull my hood closer on and I sighed before looking down at my lap. At this moment, I was glad for the lack of people on the beach due to the downcast turn dark grey clouds hiding any form of sunshine or sun whatsoever because I cried. I let out my held in tears and rocked back and forth with my hands stuffed into my pockets. The wetness slowly making its way toward the end of my face.

The mix of the wind and the roar of the waves muffled any sounds of my cries... and the sounds of footsteps.

"Mel?" A familiar voice spoke with concern and confusion. "What's wrong? Why are you crying? Why are you on the beach?"

I looked up to see Sam. "Sam?" I said, wide-eyed before taking my hands out of my pockets to wipe the tears with my sleeves. "I-I'm o-okay." I mentally cursed for stuttering. He'd know something was wrong for sure. I never stutter unless I'm nervous or scared. I let my hands drop onto my lap when I was sure my face was dry of any moisture.

His brows furrowed, a great contrast to his usual calm expression. "Melanie." His voice grew serious. The tone was familiar, something about it was something I heard before. Many times from the way he used it. "What are you doing on the beach and why were you crying? You're obviously not okay."

I shook my head, not wanting to bother him. "I-it's n-n-nothing." I stuttered again, looking down at my hands.

Sam sighed, taking a seat next to me before rubbing my back. "Mel, don't lie to me." He said gently and I looked up to meet his familiar brown eyes. "I know you aren't okay, so just talk to me. Please. It's just me. I'm still your best friend Sammy." The faint lines of amusement on his lips almost became a smile but his eyes were full of worry, concern, and care. "Please talk to me."

I couldn't bring myself to tell him the reason why my mother slapped me. I just couldn't. I didn't even know how to either. But before I could speak, he spoke again. "What happened to your cheek?"

I tensed, but a part of me already knew I could trust Sam.

The memories of him were beginning to come back and back then he was there for me. He was always helpful to me since he was older and he was always keeping my mother at bay. But that was until fourth grade when he had helped me with my math homework and my mother wanted to check it afterwards, she yelled at me for having the "wrong answers." She even tried making it clear that the answer she came up with was right when she was completely wrong, but of course she wasn't going to have that so she slapped me hard enough to draw blood. Sam was long gone before that event happened that night and she refused to quit banging my head on the desk until I told her she was right. Every memory before that moment and the days before that became hazy, even Sam. Despite his constant presence before what had happened, he was just a blur in my head. I seemingly forgot him after that until now.

But before I forgot about him, he was there. I could trust him. He knew even then, and him knowing now would help me in the long run. I just needed to make sure he wouldn't tell anyone else. I didn't want to be forced to leave, especially not now when I finally had my best friend practically my brother back and three other new friends.

"I think you already know." I said quietly, looking down at the sand underneath the table.

"You mean, you remember?" He asked, his voice thick with emotion.

I nodded. "Most of it has come back." I said, looking back up at him. "I remember you and all those times you were there, everything from before fourth grade has seemed to come back because of you."

He looked hopeful, almost happy. "Really?" He said, but his brows were beginning to furrow. "I'm guessing you forgot because of your mom huh?"

I nodded again. "Yeah, that night after you left, she wanted to check my work and when it was 'wrong,'" I used my fingers as quotations to emphasize wrong. "and I kept saying what I had was right because you helped me, she slapped me hard," I instinctively clutched my cheek. "she even even banged my head on the desk until I said she was right. Which is how, I'm guessing, I forgot about you."

The hand that had been rubbing my back tensed and the look in Sam's eyes held fierce determination. "Mel, I am SO sorry you went through that." His voice full of sympathy. "I promise to take care of you when I'm 18. Your mother's," slight resentment in his voice in saying the word. " is not fit for in there until then. But know I'll always, and I mean always be here for you. I promise."

I almost teared up. "Oh Sammy." I said, hugging him.

He hugged me back. "Lemme know if you need anything alright?"

I nodded. "Just promise me something." I said as we released.

"Anything." He said, his brown eyes look determined.

"Don't tell anyone about what she does, okay?" I said, letting my eyes tell him that there's more to that reason than fear of her. I wanted him to somehow know I feared of losing him from my life again.

He sighed and nodded. "I promise."

Thanks for reading!

I'm SO sorry for updating so late. I meant to but school and such had me busy. I'll try and update more though.

I have do much planned and I can't wait to see this story finished. (:

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