A/N: I got questions asking what Charlie's problem was. Just wait. It'll be explained later.
When I wake up the next morning, I'm lying on the kitchen floor with a pool of blood around my head. I sit up too quickly, and grab my head, moaning. I notice a small note on the table and grab it.
Bitch-
At work. Clean up the mess you made.
The mess I made? What the hell! I didn't do anything! That was his fault.
I sigh, though and force myself to my feet, using my right hand to grip the table. I cry out, pulling my wrist to my chest. I must have hit it too hard when I fell last night.
I go up to my room, surprised my legs don't feel even more injured. I dig around under my bed for a few minutes and then pull out an old, thin rag. I take that and find something to wear for the day.
I go to the bathroom and turn on the hot water. I undress and step into the pounding water from the shower. The water beats on my body, but in a soothing, decent way. I look down and watch the dried blood wash off my body.
When I get out, I dress again, put then stare at my stomach in the mirror. There's a black bruise in the shape of his boot! I turn and see my back with a large cut down it. I don't know what to do about it, and I watch as a small amount of blood oozes out.
I find a large bandage in the cabinet and peel off the back. I place it over the cut as best I could, considering I'm looking into a mirror to place it.
I finish dressing and cover up most of the bruises on my face. I tie up my wrist and pull on my jacket. I'm pulling on my backpack as thunder cracks.
"Can this day get much worse?" I say out loud.
I pull my jacket off and exchange it for a dark blue jacket that the water literally rolls off. I lift the hood up and grab my backpack, walking out the front door. I lock the door and start towards school. Well, at least I didn't hurt my legs . . .
After about ten minutes, I'm soaked and freezing. I pull my jacket around me tighter, wishing it the wind would stop. The rain's pelting my face, and I'm sure the skin is raw and red.
I hear the sound of a car coming up behind me and glance back. There's a silver Volvo coming up behind me. It pulls to a stop at the stop sign, and I catch up. I look into the car and see Edward.
I cock my head to the side, surprised to see him.
He rolls down the window.
"Want a ride?" he calls.
My paranoia takes over. Should I trust him? How can I trust him? I just met him. And I don't trust guys that easily. But my brain shoves that out of the way. My brain reminds me that I more than likely will get sick if I walk the rest of the way to school and that I'll probably end up getting hurt, too.
"Uh, sure," I answer finally and open the door. I put my bag on the floor and take a seat, pulling off my jacket.
"What happened?" Edward asks in a panicked tone.
"What?" I answer, looking down. Part of my shirt had crawled up. A small portion of a bruise was showing. I pull it down, shrugging. I answer in a nonchalant tone, "I was taking a walk in the woods and slipped. Hit a log. It's cool."
He seems convinced and starts driving again as I pull on the seatbelt.
"Are you able to come over after school today? For the project?" he asks.
"Dammit, I forgot to ask my dad," I respond, cursing further in my head.
"You wanna call him?" he asks, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket.
I stare at the phone in his hand. What would Charlie think? I'd be calling from a guy's phone . . . He'd beat me for that, getting a ride. He says I'm not allowed to have help, that I don't deserve help.
But I do need the grade. I have to have all A's or Charlie will kill me.
I take the phone with a shaking hand.
"He-hey, Dad," I say once he answers.
"What?" he spits.
"I forgot to ask last night over dinner, but I would like to go over to a classmate's house to work on a project," I explain, hoping that doesn't come off too . . . well, in a way he wouldn't like.
"Fine," he hisses at last. "But if they find out-"
"Don't worry, Dad, nothing will happen," I say quickly, hoping Edward thinks it's just an over-protective parent thing.
"And it's sir, bitch," he says angrily before hanging up on me.
I hand the phone back to Edward, giving a false smile and thumbs up.
"All's good," I add.
"Okay, then you can ride home with me," he says.
"Sure," I answer in response.
"Yeah, you can meet my siblings and Carlisle and Esme," he adds.
"Cool," I answer. "Your parents?"
"Adopted parents," he clarifies. "They took us in when we were young."
I open my mouth to ask about his real parents, but then think otherwise and shut my mouth. It'd be rude to ask.
"Are any of your siblings biologically related?" I ask instead after a moment of staring at him.
"Oh, no, none of us are, but we're within a year of each other in age," he says. "Well, Rosalie and Jasper are twins, but they're the only related ones."
"Oh," I say. We were both only children. But, I am still am . . .
"Hey, you should sit with us at lunch," he says.
"Okay," I answer. Maybe it won't be so bad to if I befriend him. And he is hot . . .
"I think Emmett and Alice will like you," he says, continuing to talk about his family. But then he laughs. "I just realized I'm focusing this conversation on myself. What about your parents?"
"My dad's the chief of police," I say. It's so ironic – an upholder of justice and then what he does every day . . . I place a hand on my stomach, wincing slightly.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
"What about your mom?" he asks, nodding.
"She's . . . dead."
"I'm sorry," he answers.
The atmosphere in the little Volvo turns dark and moody. We sit in stony silence until we get to the school. Once there, he parks and we get out.
"I'll see you later," he mutters, looking at the ground.
"Yeah," I respond automatically.
My mind's alright thinking about what I'll need to patch up once I get home. I'm surprised Charlie never asked why I was calling from a cell phone. Maybe he thought it belonged to someone at school . . . Oh, that's just hopeful. There's no way he thought that. I'm so screwed.
Once lunch rolls around, I've worked myself into such a mess that I can't concentrate anymore. I've chewed off most of my fingernails and –
"Ow!" I cry as I trip and fall. I hit the ground with my wrists braking the fall. "Shit!"
I bring my injured hand to my chest, trying not to cry.
"You okay?" I hear a voice ask from above me.
I look up with tears forming in my eyes to see Edward. He offers his hand, and I take it with my good one. He lifts me up gently and takes my injured wrist. He rolls up my sleeve, and I yank away my hand, hurting it more.
He gives me a very puzzled look.
"You were hurting it," I lie. I feel bad about lying, but there's pretty much no way around it.
"Sorry," he says. "Would you like to have Carlisle look at it?"
"Why?" I ask.
"He's a doctor," he explains.
"Oh," I say. I shrug. "I guess. It's probably better than letting it heal on its own."
"Yeah," he said. "Let's go eat . . ."
I follow him to the lunch room, getting an apple out of my bag again. I hardly eat more than apples anymore. We sit down at a table in the corner, and I look around for the others. They aren't here yet.
"I'm gonna go get some food," Edwards says and walks off.
I take a bite of my apple, pulling out my book. I flip it open and remove the bookmark, taking in the words. As I flip the page, I hear someone clear their throat. I look up, pulling a chunk of the apple out.
Four people are staring down at me like I'm the biggest freak they've ever seen.
One's really, really buff with green eyes and black hair. He looks like some of the football players I've seen. A blonde girl stands next to him, bluish eyes artfully surrounded by makeup. There's another blonde – a guy with an odd look on his face and blue eyes. Must be Jasper and the blond chick Rosalie. A short, petite, pixie-like girl is bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet next to Jasper. Hyper little thing. Her jet black hair is spiked in all directions around her pretty face.
Edward comes back at that moment.
"Oh, hey, this is Bella," he explains, sensing the tension between us. "Bella, this is Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper and Alice."
"I bet we're gonna be friends really fast," says Alice, smiling at me. She sits next to me, and Jasper by her. The others take seats around the table.
"Is that all you're eating?" Emmett asks, biting into his sandwich.
"Yeah," I answer, looking down, putting my book away.
"But won't you still be hungry?" Rosalie asks.
"Probably," I mutter, feeling really uncertain about sitting with them. They ask too many questions . . .
"Here," Jasper says, pushing his tray over to me. "I'm not that hungry."
"Oh, thanks," I say, smiling slightly.
I end up finishing the before the rest of them. And as I'm shoving the last bite of sandwich into my mouth, Edward speaks.
"You act like you never eat," he says, his eyebrows knitted together.
I swallow hard and take a minute drinking some of the milk, trying to put together a believable lie.
"I'm just hungry a lot."
Wow, that's so lame.
They don't look like they believe me.
"Bella's coming over after school," Edwards says anyway, moving on from my really crappy lie. "We're working on a project for Banner."
"That skeleton thing?" Emmett asks.
"Yeah, that," I say.
"You should sleepover," Alice says.
My mouth opens, but I can't force words to come out.
"Alice, we just met, forget it," says Edward for me. That was perfect. So much better than other lies going through my head. And this wasn't a lie. 'Sides, Charlie would murder me.
Lunch was filled with talking and getting to know each other. Apparently, Carlisle's job required them to move here from Chicago! Those poor, poor, people. Stuck here, in boring, rainy Forks after windy, sunny, huge, busy Chicago.
And then, the rest of the day passed quickly. Edward and I talked of the project on the way over to his house. There was a long, dirt, twisted drive up to their house through the woods.
The house itself was beautiful and modern, and so white. I thought I heard something like a stream in the background, but that was probably the rain.
He pulls into the garage, and we get out.
"Carlisle won't be home till six, so he can look at your wrist then," he says as I grab my bag.
"That's when Charlie gets home," I say very, very quietly.
"What?" he asks.
"Nothing," I say shaking my head as we walk into a gleaming kitchen.
"Hey, Esme!" Edward calls.
"Yes?" I hear a voice call.
"Bella and I are going to go work up in my room," he says, already walking off towards the stairs. I hurry after him.
"Be good!"
He rolls his eyes and sighs.
"Sorry," he says to me. "Parents."
"Yeah," I say.
We enter his room, and I'm automatically surprised by all the walls lined with CDs, vinyl, and cassettes. It looks like there's albums from so many decades! Instead of a bed, he's got this black leather sofa that looks really comfortable.
He drops his bag on the floor, pulling off his jacket. He finds something and sets it up to play. A song and band I'm unfamiliar with starts playing.
I unzip my jacket and take it off. I sit down on the couch as Edward pulls brings out a laptop.
"Mind if I find a picture to use?"
"Go ahead. While you do that, I'm gonna-"
Then I remembered I never cleaned up the blood on the kitchen floor.
"Fudge."
"What?"
"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. I can't believe how often I've lied to him today.
"Oh."
He sketches a really bad skeleton since I can't at the moment.
"This looks like crap," he says.
"No, you just need practice," I say consollignly.
"Like you can do better," he scoffs.
"I can," I say. "I paint and draw a lot."
"Sorry," he says. "Can I see sometime?"
"Maybe."
We work until five-thirty and then call it quits. We go downstairs where everyone else is hanging out.
"Hey, Bella, wanna play?" Emmett asks. Then he shouts, "Jasper, quit that! You're making me drive off the road!"
"Ha!" Jasper cries victoriously as Emmett falls off a cliff.
"Dammit!" he shouts.
"Emmett! Clean up your language right now!" a woman with caramel hair scolds him. She looks over at me standing awkwardly at the foot of the stairs. Edward had picked up another controller and started the next race with the other boys. "Oh, I'm Esme, dear."
Esme's so pretty. I feel so jealous as I look at her.
"Make yourself at home," she says. "Stay for dinner, too."
"Oh, thanks," I say. "I'll just have to call my father."
"The phone's over there," she says as she walks to the kitchen to start dinner.
I go over and pick it up, wondering if I should really call him while in the same room as the rest.
"I'm just gonna step outside," I say, going through the sliding glass door. I shut it and dial the house number. Charlie picks up on the third ring.
"Hello?" he asks. He sounds like his old self, the self he lies with. The kinder self.
"Hi, Dad," I say.
"Oh, bitch," he answers. "What is it?"
"The Cullens want to know if I could stay for dinner," I say. "May I?"
"Fine," he says. "But, bitch, you forgot to clean up. You will be punished."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," I apologize. "When I get back, I'll make you a pie. Apple or cherry?"
"Apple," he hisses and hangs up.
I hit end on their phone and walk back inside as Emmett literally shoves the other two off the couch as they play. I laugh for the first time in weeks. I put the phone up and walk into the kitchen.
"My dad said I can stay," I say.
"That's good, dear," he says. "What would you like?"
"Oh," I say, surprised. "Um, I don't really care. I'm sure whatever you make will be good."
She's about to answer as the garage door opens. A man with slicked back blonde hair enters.
"You must be Bella," he says. "Esme called. I'm Carlisle."
He reaches out to shake my hand, but I don't return the favor.
"Sorry," I say.
"Oh, hey, Carlisle, look at her wrist!" Edward calls from the living room. "Emmett! Stop shoving!"
"You hurt your wrist?" Carlisle asks, looking at me.
"Oh, it's nothing," I lie, pulling my sleeve up far enough to take the rag off. There's swelling and bruising that I know Charlie didn't cause. Dammit. "I just fell and landed on it-"
I break off, screaming as he puts pressure on it. I pull my wrist back, biting my lower lip, feeling tears come to my eyes.
Alice and Rosalie appear in the room quickly.
"What's wrong?" they ask.
"Nothing," I hiss, still trying not to break down. So much pain . . .
"Come with me, Bella," says Carlisle.
He leads be back up the stairs and into his office. He gestures to the seat across from his, and I take it, still holding my wrist. He sits down and takes my hand as gently as he can.
He turns my wrist around as gently as possible and prods it slightly. I whimper, feeling a tear slide down my face.
"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I know this must hurt terribly. Is there a burning or tingling feeling?"
I think about it and nod. I never noticed before.
"Well, you sprained it, that's certain," he says. "It appears as a grade two, and I'm sure it's not broken."
He gets up and digs through the bag he had been carrying.
"Here we go," he says. He pulls out an ace bandage. He wraps my wrist as gently as he can but making sure it's tight enough to be effective. "Add ice, elevate it and do not use it excessively."
We go back downstairs. Alice walks over with a bag of ice and places it on my wrist.
"You'll get better soon," she says.
"Yeah," I nod. But I don't believe it. I know he'll probably end up hurting me again. When doesn't that happen?
That night, Charlie's drunk, and two of his friends are drunk as well. This is never good. Nothing good comes of this.
They take turns delivering blows to my body. One brings out a knife and writes "Whore" on the inside of my left wrist. At least no one will see it. Or at least they shouldn't.
And when they're done, I can't move. I don't want to move. They leave, and I don't know what they plan on doing, but I plan on sleeping. But not here. I need to get into bed. My decent bed. The mattress is better than the floor. The last thing I need is a sore back from the floor.
I drag myself up the steps and into my room. I pull off everything except my undershirt and then pull on a pair of sweats. I slip into bed, crying softly to myself. I can't believe I was laughing earlier today.
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