A/N: Major fail on review replies. Thanks to the flu, I've been in bed for the past two days. :( I appreciate all the reviews!

This chapter is long but I needed for it to be. There was no way around it so sit down, hold hands with the person next to you and sing "This Little Light of Mine" because this one is going to be tough.

***Please keep in mind that this is Bella's perspective & also consider the time frame for this chapter.***

Song rec- "Amsterdam" by Coldplay & "Possibility" by Lykke Li (That's for you Lynn Pepper!)

Twenty One

I hugged Rose. I called Esme. They both told me that I was welcome back anytime and that they would keep in touch with me. I tried not to cry. I tried to smile. Everything that I'd wished for the past year was actually happening. I was with my dad. I was going back to Forks. The smile on my face should have been genuine. Instead it was painfully forced.

Edward didn't want me there. After he told me that, all I could simply do was walk out. He called out my name, told me to wait but I just kept walking. It would have been easier if I'd thought for a moment that he meant it but he didn't. He was trying to do the "right thing". The thing was, I wasn't sure exactly why he was sending me away. Edward had a habit of making himself suffer but he'd told me that he thought I would be happier in Washington. Perhaps, he was killing two birds with one stone: Self-torture and take care of Bella, all at once. He must feel like a fucking hero.

The glass of the airplane window felt good against my aching forehead as we flew back to Seattle. I pretended to sleep to avoid my dad's cautious gaze and questions about my comfort. My chest ached with emptiness and my stomach tightened with every bump of turbulence. The bruises all over my body ached if accidentally brushed. The sutures in my head itched. But I kept still and pretended to sleep.

When we pulled up in front of the house where I was raised, my dad cut off the engine. I couldn't move. The house that I longed to see for so long felt different. I looked at it suspiciously as my dad put his hand on the door handle and glanced at me.

"You okay?" he asked.

A pang of fear rushed through me as I realized why my house felt different. "Where did he sleep?"

"Who, Bells?"

I cut my eyes to him. "You know who, Dad."

He sighed heavily but didn't answer. Instead, he got out of the truck and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"He slept in my bed, didn't he?"

Absentmindedly, his fingers pulled at his moustache. He'd always seemed so strong to me: The stiff posture, the dark eyes and the perfectly groomed facial hair. You add his signature stare to the mixture and it was enough to keep me on the straight and narrow when I was younger. But now, as I watched him struggle to speak and shuffle his feet on the gravel of our driveway, his brawn wasn't impressive.

"I'm sorry, Bella. He said that it made him feel…closer to you."

I wanted to punch something. I wanted to cry. Instead, I climbed out of the seat and slammed the door to his truck in an effort to feel better. It didn't work.

"I'll whip us up something to eat," he mumbled as he set my bag on the floor. "Anything sound good? I still make a mean grilled cheese."

My eyes blinked slowly. "I'm going to lie down but thanks, dad."

"I told your mom that you'd call her when we got home. She's worried about you; wants to talk to you," he said and then pointed out, "Plus, you haven't eaten all day. You should eat before you lie down."

I offered him a small smile. "I just want to sleep. I'll call her tomorrow."

After throwing water on my face, cautious not to get the incision on my head wet, I avoided my room and lay down on the couch. My dad banged pots around in the kitchen as if he were trying to get a rise out of my taste buds. A short time later, he offered me food, yet again, and I pretended to be asleep. If I had to answer him, I was afraid I'd snap at him.

I wondered if Edward was still in the hospital. I summoned up an image of him on the insides of my eyelids and the ache in my chest doubled. The way he touched me, the way he looked at me, the way he took care of me... The memories made me clinch my fists.

Rose had told me to call her when I got to Forks but I didn't have the strength. The ache throbbed as I thought about each time I scampered across the hall to chat with her. Loneliness was painful.

Some sort of strange presence suffocated me; made it hard to breathe. I felt it wrap around me as I drifted off and it filled my dreams.

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and some sort of breakfast food. Pancakes, that was it. I raised myself off the couch and stretched; my back popped and the crick in my neck slowly vanished. My muscles throbbed.

As I looked around, I suddenly felt it. The presence that had seemed thick in the air hit me and I nearly sobbed. My eyes swept over the living room. My dad's recliner. The worn out TV. The brown shaggy carpet. The sound of bacon sizzling on the stove crinkled through the air. It was home…but it wasn't.

He'd slept in my room. He ate at my kitchen table. He had lengthy conversations with my dad. He sat on this couch. He ate my dad's food. He talked on our phone. He looked at every picture that currently hung on our walls. He showered in our shower.

James was dead but his spirit was not.

~~November~~

"Bella! Hey, you want some dinner? I brought home pizza!"

I sighed. It felt good to lie down and I really wasn't hungry but I knew if I didn't eat, I'd get another lecture. There'd be more of the usual: "Bella, you need to eat more…" or "Bella, you should get out more…" or the infamous, "Bella, so-n-so gave me a number of a really good therapist…"

"What kind?" I asked as I met him in the kitchen.

"Pepperoni and mushroom," he replied, opening up the lid.

"Thick crust," I remarked.

His face fell. "You used to like thick crust, Bells. If you—"

Pizza made me think of Edward and the time he caught me ordering it in my sleep. My stomach tightened.

"No, it's fine, dad. I do like it. Thanks."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Dig in."

I washed my hands and plopped down on the chair next to him. With great effort, I managed to get down a whole piece and then I picked at the second one. My dad was silent but always watchful. I feigned ignorance.

"You remember Allie Caldwell? From the station?" he finally asked.

"The dispatcher?" He nodded. "Yeah, I remember her."

"She doesn't have much family and she wanted to know if we wanted to join her for dinner next Thursday." He shrugged and took a sip of his beer. "I thought it might be nice to get out of the house."

I quirked an eyebrow. "You get out of the house every day."

"You know what I mean," he said. "You need some fresh air, Bells."

I was starting to hate it when he called me that.

"I'm not really interested in getting questionable stares all night by someone I don't even know. Thanks anyway."

My dad dropped his crust onto his plate and crossed his arms over his chest. "No one really knows what happened to you, you know. Sure, there are rumors and you only fuel those rumors when you stay holed up inside this house for weeks at a time."

"I don't care what people say," I said, my teeth grinding together. "Let them talk."

"Allie is a very nice lady and she just didn't want us to be alone next week. She was only—"

"Then, you go," I spat. "I don't think I'll be up to it."

He sighed shakily. "If you stay home, then I'm staying home. You can't be alone on Thanksgiving."

Thanksgiving? Oh. That's right.

"No, you should go. I'd be fine here. Really."

He shook his head. "We should do our own thing, you know? You used to love making dinner and then we could decorate for Christmas over the weekend. Wasn't that always the tradition when you were in high school?" He rested his elbows on the table and his face lit up as memories of Christmas past floated through his mind. I tried. I really did but I couldn't muster up the excitement. Dad was oblivious to my lackluster attitude. "We can crawl up into the attic, grab the Christmas stuff and make a weekend out of it."

"How long was James here?" I asked suddenly, surprising even myself with the question.

My dad shook himself out of his thoughts. "What?"

"How long was he here? Did he come right after I ran away or did he pretend to look for me for a while before making himself at home in your house?" I wasn't trying to be vindictive and it wasn't an accusation but his face fell just the same.

"Why is it important, Bella?"

Rage built up inside me. "A man who tortured me for months was living here and now I'm not supposed to wonder about it? Did you celebrate your birthday with him, Dad? Did you guys order pizza and watch football? Did you reminisce about my goofy high school years? Pull out the old photo albums that I put together and cry with each other over your loss?"

He slammed his palm on the table and I jumped. "Enough! That is enough, Bella!"

When I looked into his eyes and only saw pain, I winced with guilt. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Bella, I don't know what you want from me."

"I don't want anything."

He sighed. "Maybe, that's the problem. All you do is stare at walls and sleep. You've lost at least five pounds in the past month. You're deteriorating right in front of my eyes and you don't..."

I snapped my eyes up to his. "I don't what?"

"You don't seem to give a shit."

I couldn't breathe. Everywhere I looked, there he was: Sitting at my dinner table, sipping coffee at the window, smirking wickedly behind my dad's back. I couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going to bed," I mumbled.

Setting a frantic pace, I ran up the steps and slammed the bathroom door behind me. I was panting; almost wheezing. I discarded my clothes and jumped in the shower, turning the water on. It was cold, then warm, then blazing hot. I didn't care. I wanted to feel something besides the suffocation. I wanted to feel something besides this horrible ache in my chest that didn't ever seem to go away.

A pain shot through my knees as I fell on them, the hard tile hitting me right in the kneecaps. I wanted…I wanted…I needed…

Chicago. Edward. Rose. Esme. Those hugs. All those welcoming arms that wrapped around me and held me safely, like that's what they were made for. Enveloped in those gentle arms, I'd find peace again. I needed to go to them. If I showed up on Edward's doorstep, he'd take me in, right? If he didn't, Rose would or even Esme. They'd invite me in from the cold and help me find myself again. I'd found a piece of it in Chicago and it was left behind, in Edward's hospital room.

He didn't want me…

I ran to my room, naked and cold and grateful that my dad was still downstairs in the kitchen. I packed furiously, not even looking at what I was stuffing in my bag. As I yanked open my closet to find a sweatshirt, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror that was hanging on the door.

Even when I lived with James, I hadn't looked so bad. I was the walking dead. My face was pale and my eyes wide and bloodshot. My hair. When had a washed my hair last? With actual shampoo? The bones in my hips stuck out and my ribs moved as I breathed. Tears filled my eyes as I did the unthinkable. Slowly, I turned around and looked over my shoulder at the carvings on my back. The word meant almost as much now as it did when he was alive. He owned me; I was his no matter where I went or what I did. His tormenting presence would stay in my life as long as I lived. Chicago couldn't make that disappear.

I fell to my knees a second time and I welcomed the pain that shot up my thighs. Then I wept until every muscle in my body was strained and my eyes burned hot.

~~December~~

As the phone rang in my ear, I paced and twisted the phone cord around my finger. It rang four times and then went to voicemail. Rose must have given him this number. Irritated, I hung up the phone and then picked it right back up. Every rational voice in my head was screaming to drop it but I couldn't. I let it ring again. One…Two…Three…Four…You've reached the voicemail box of Edward Masen. If you'd-

"Fuck!" I screamed as I hung up the phone.

Immediately, I dialed Rose. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Rose, hey, it's Bella." My voice was shaky and fake. "How are you guys?"

"Bella! Hey, we're good. Just eating dinner." A man's voice yelled out a greeting. "Emmett says to say hi."

I grinned and bounced on my toes. "Tell him hi for me, too."

"I wasn't expecting a call from you until tomorrow. Is something wrong?"

Rose and I called each other every Sunday, just to keep in touch. I lied a lot. I told her that I was great and even made up stories about what I was doing. According to my fake-self, I had a job at the library and I was back to running. Oh, and I was taking a cooking class—a must for every girl who's been through a traumatic situation.

"Oh, no, I'm good. I just…I needed to hear your voice, Rose." Then I cried. Shamelessly.

"Bella, hey, what's going on? Talk to me, girl."

I wanted to go to her. I wanted to see Edward. I needed to feel him touching me, holding me, whispering in my ear that he'd never let anything or anyone ever hurt me again. He was the only place I'd feel safe and whole. My constant.

"I'm just having a really bad day," I blubbered. "Um…have you seen Edward lately?"

She hesitated. "Yeah, I see him all the time, Bella."

"Did…did he change his number because I've tried to call him and…" I trailed off, humiliated that I was doing this to Rose. "It's okay, I…I just wanted to talk to him. Make sure that he's doing okay. I've tried to call him and he's not answering so I just wanted to make sure that he's still there."

"I know you've been trying to call him, Bella and I've tried to talk to him about it but he has it in his mind that talking to him wouldn't help you. Personally, I think it would just make things harder on him but he insists…"

My face lifted into a pathetic smile. "Can…can you just tell me one thing, Rose?"

"Of course, Bella."

"D-does he miss me? Does he…"—I paused to blow out a quiet sob—"Does he ask about me?"

Her voice grew sympathetic. "Bella, that man is falling apart here but he won't admit it. He misses you but he really feels like you need to be in Forks right now. You know him, he feels like he's on this planet to make everyone else happy but himself. I almost punched him in the nuts the other day for arguing with me about it."

I hated to ask this next question because I knew I'd regret it as soon as I hung up the phone. "Would you ask him to call me? Would you tell him that…that I miss him and that I really need to talk to him?"

Another hesitation. "I will but you know how stubborn he is, girl."

I wondered at that point if she was even telling me the truth. Maybe, she was just like everyone else and only telling me what I wanted to hear because I was weak and fragile and ridiculously stupid.

"Thanks," I said then hung up without bidding her goodbye.

I was tired. And sad. So I got an idea.

Fifteen minutes and a cold walk to a tiny grocery store down the street later, I was sitting on my front steps with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a pack of cigarettes in my hand. Depressed people seemed to thrive on alcohol and nicotine. Why not me?

Before I sat down, the familiar feel of the leather Trinity bracelet wiggled on my wrist. That day flashed back to me—him sitting on my couch and telling me how he was willing to give us a shot. He told me that he'd try and then he gave me that bracelet. Unbreakable and strong, that's what he'd called me. My hands shook with bitter rage as I remembered his green eyes staring into mine, telling me how important I was to him. Gnashing my molars together, I tore the bracelet off and heaved it into the bushes beside our house. Fuck him.

Then I panicked. That was the last physical evidence I had that Edward even existed in my life and I'd just thrown it away. I tugged at my hair and whimpered, staring off into the darkness of the bushes. After a couple of heaving sobs, surrender flooded through my bones and I plopped down on the concrete steps in front of our house.

I struggled to get the cellophane off the tiny box but managed after a few curses. Holding the cigarette in one hand and the bottle of whiskey in the other, I wondered what I looked like. A car drove by and slowed down as it neared my house and then sped up again after it had passed. If people hadn't talked before, they certainly would now. My dad would be thrilled. That thought made me laugh.

As if the heavens had sent him some sort of spiritual message, he pulled into the driveway and cut off the engine to his truck. He clicked off his headlights and got out, walking over to me with his chin tucked into his chest.

"What'cha doing, Bella?"

"Smoking." I held up the cigarette and then the bottle of Jack. "And drinking."

"Yeah, that'll help," he mumbled. "What's this all about?"

I shrugged. "Maybe, I'm channeling my former dead lover."

He winced then grimaced. "Cut that shit out and tell me what this is all about."

"I think I should go back to Chicago."

He blinked at me. "Why? So you can fall apart around a bunch of strangers? Is this how they deal with their problems in Chicago?"

"I have people there who love me," I murmured.

He scoffed. "And I don't love you?"

"Honestly, I don't really know…Charlie." I spat out his name and sneered, as if I hurled an insult at him.

"Okay. Get it out, Bella. Tell me how horrible I was to let you go off with him! Tell me what a fucking sad excuse for a father I am for allowing those things to happen to you! Yell at me! Scream at me! Hit me for Christ's sake! At least it would prove to me that you haven't given up on yourself! That there's still…something in that head of yours that's telling you to fight back!"

"How could you not know? How could you let him live with you and…and…and be a cop and not figure it out that he was a fucking monster?" I screamed at him, my voice echoing through the night. "You should have seen it, Dad! You should have known…"

He avoided looking at me and a pregnant pause filled the air.

"You're right," he whispered. "I-I let you down and…" He trailed off, the sound of his broken voice cutting through every artery of my heart. This hadn't been what I'd planned, to spit out accusations at my father but I had.

"I'm sorry, dad," I cried. "I just…my friends in Chicago understand me. I…can't live here when I know that he was here. It's…it's just too much."

His eyes cut to mine and I took a step back because I could see the rage that suddenly clashed with the pain. "Those friends of yours in Chicago…they should have called the police. They put your life at risk by not doing anything about it. How can you feel safe with people like that?"

I jumped up, furious and defensive, and threw the bottle of whiskey on the concrete porch. It shattered and I felt it splatter on my leg. "Those people did everything for me! They did everything that you couldn't!"

He opened his mouth to say something but snapped it closed before letting a long breath escape through his nostrils. "My daughter wouldn't run from this, Bella, and you're still my daughter whether you like it or not. If you go to Chicago, you can expect me to follow. I'm not leaving you for the vultures like you want me to do." He walked past me and kicked a large chunk of glass off the porch. "I'm not going to let you waste away."

I sat down where I was and cried into my hands. What had I just said to my own father? The man who'd shown up at all my boring track events in high school just to cheer me on? The man who allowed me to paint his toenails pink when I was eight? The man who would go to hell and back if it meant putting a smile on my face? Essentially, that's what living with me could be compared to—going to hell and back.

I was tired. Tired of crying. Tired of being dirty. Tired of not knowing who I was or where I was going. My dad was right—Chicago wasn't the answer to my problems.

With a groan, I stood up and headed toward the front door only to be stopped by a sudden noise. I gasped softly and felt my eyes burn with fresh tears. My heart stilled and I dug my fingernails into my palm. There was no sound in the world like the sound of a grown man weeping.

~~January~~

"Are you eating?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Mom, I'm eating."

"Charlie told me that you were drinking. Are you still drinking?"

Positive that she was making a mountain out of a molehill from what Charlie had told her, I closed my eyes and let my head fall back on the car seat. Charlie had been upset and didn't know what to do with me so he'd called my mom the day that I had reached my lowest point. He probably told her what happened and she got what she wanted out of it which was that I was a chain smoking alcoholic on the verge of anorexia. My mom was nothing if not dramatic.

"I was never drinking," I told her. "But it's sweet that you're playing the concerned overprotective mother role with me. It's nice. A little foreign but nice."

She sighed loud enough to make sure that I heard her. "Bella, you know that I can't afford the airfare to come up there. It's not my fault that you won't answer the phone when I call. I know that you're there, listening when I leave messages. You can talk to me, you know."

"Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it. I've got to go; I'm here now."

"It's good that you're seeing that therapist but remember that you can always talk to me. I'm just a phone call away."

I didn't say what I really wanted to say—that I had no desire to tell her anything personal about myself. The sudden anger toward my mom had started with my first therapy session a couple of weeks prior. We hadn't even talked about her but somehow, I walked to my new used car with a stomp to my step as I thought about her lack of influence in my life.

With slight reluctance, I got out and headed toward the small office building that had been built only a few years ago when I was in school. New development was a rarity in Forks but when it was built, people came. The office I was heading to was sandwiched between a Great Clips and a Suds for Mutts.

"Hey, Darlin'! I forgot you were comin' in today. I would have brought you that book that I was tellin' you about last week." Gloria Smartosky was a middle-aged heavyset lady with the brightest lipstick in Clallam County. I'd seen bright red, hot pink, and some color she said was called fuchsia but it looked pretty close to hot pink to me. When she'd smile, I'd get an eye-full of bright lips surrounding white lipstick smeared teeth. She was a sweet lady who'd won over my heart the day of my second session when I spotted her reading Sense and Sensibility behind her desk. She told me that her daughter had gotten it for her for Christmas and she was determined to get through it but she had her doubts. I told her to push through it because it really was a great read. Then our friendship began…

"It is Thursday, Gloria. I'm here Tuesdays and Thursdays because I'm just that nuts."

She waved me off with a flip of her wrist. "You should see the people that come and go from this place. All I can say is that it makes me feel pretty good about myself."

"Gloria, you weren't just talking about our clients, were you?" Dr. Leah Clearwater was standing in the doorway to her office with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyebrow was quirked in warning but Gloria didn't seem to care.

"You should know it better than me, Leah. The people in this town have too much time on their hands."

Dr. Clearwater rolled her eyes. "How does Bella know that you're not talking about her, too?"

I looked at Gloria and grinned, amused that the snarky receptionist's expression had changed from nonchalant to slightly defensive.

"Well, I wouldn't say that to her if I meant she was one of the nutcases," she explained.

"Professional, Gloria, be professional," Leah begged. "Just because I'm married to your son doesn't mean that I won't fire you."

"Pffft!" Gloria spit a little on her computer with the skeptical noise. "If you fire me, then I'll have to move in with you and Gil." She winked at me as she continued, "Personally, I'd love to be a member of your household. I hear you make some fantastic pancakes."

Dr. Clearwater moaned. "Bella, my mother in law is cutting into your time. I'm sorry. Come on in."

I shrugged. "See you on the outside, Gloria."

"How was your week?" she asked as she shut the door and I sat down on the couch.

I nodded. "It was okay."

The reason I liked Leah Clearwater was her enthusiasm. She was young and just starting out so when I was with her, she actually seemed interested in my progress. After I'd had that argument with my dad before Christmas, I hit rock bottom. I didn't get out of bed for days.

Then I had a dream.

It was a rotten dream that was more like a memory. I was in Chicago, sitting in Edward's living room and laying on his couch. My feet were in his lap and we were watching some game show on TV. His strong warm hands rubbed circles on the pads of my feet and stroked my calf as he laughed about some ridiculous answer that one of the contestants had given.

He seemed so carefree. He seemed happy. The smile on his face was genuine as he looked at me with adoration. He wasn't telling me to go but instead, he pulled me off my back and onto his lap. Then he kissed me. It was just as I remembered—soft warm lips and controlled movements with his tongue that made me ache inside to be closer to him. I wanted to be there so bad that I woke up sobbing. And screaming. My dad panicked and shook my silly until I snapped out of it.

The next day, I made some calls and found Leah. Our first session was awkward but unexpectedly nice. She didn't ask about my problems or my fears. She just sat down and asked me about me. And, with some hesitation, I told her. It was almost like I was paying her to be my friend.

The second session was less casual and more down-to-business. I told her about James and the beginning of our relationship. How I didn't listen to my instincts when I felt there was something off about him; my spontaneous acceptance of his proposal and our journey to Oklahoma.

The third session was exhausting. We covered Oklahoma. Mainly, she just listened and asked me a few questions but it felt good to get it off my chest to someone who wasn't personally involved in my life.

Today was my fourth session.

"I'm stoked to see what you came up with the past couple of days," she said, grinning.

I sighed. "I don't even know if I did it right."

My homework had been to think of three things that I can do to make myself feel better. The rules were that these things had to be continuous, beneficial to mainly my self and good for me, mentally or physically.

"I'm sure you did," she encouraged. "Let's hear it."

I cleared my throat and shifted on my seat. "Well, first I'd like to take a self defense class. Someone told me that I have a lot of misplaced anger…" I paused to stare hard at that someone. "So, I thought that I could beat the shit out of an immobile object instead of screaming obscenities at my dad."

Leah smiled, ignoring the jab. "That's awesome. I think that would be an amazing place to start."

"Start?"

"Yeah, who knows? Maybe one day, you'll be a black belt."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, my next adventure will be writing. You have me writing in this journal and I think if I actually wrote something that could possibly be published, it might help someone someday." Leah opened her mouth to talk but I cut her off. "This is beneficial to me because I'm going to write about my experience with James. It'll be therapeutic."

"You're teetering on the edge of breaking one of the rules but I'm going to let it slide. I think that will be very helpful for you, Bella." She ran a hand through her black, shiny hair and it fell to one side. Her Indian heritage ran deep in her blood, giving her the beautiful edgy look she needed to stand out in her field. I couldn't imagine it was easy being a young woman starting her own business in the small town of Forks.

"Last but not least, I want to get a job," I said.

Her eyebrows flew up. "That's a huge thing, Bella. Are you sure that you're ready for that?"

"Right now, living in my dad's house and sleeping until noon is…depressing. I feel worthless. If I had somewhere to be, some place that needed me, it would make me feel like there's a point to my life. Like there's a reason to even get out of bed."

"Don't you think that your dad values you even if you don't have a job?"

"I said some awful things to him. Things that changed our relationship and I don't know if we'll ever be the same again."

"I don't know what you said but if it makes you feel worthless, then the words had to have been significant. Do you want to jump ahead and talk about it?" I shook my head as shame filled me up. "Well, things might not be the same with your dad but you have a choice in that Bella. You can use it to make you stronger or you can let it destroy your relationship."

I chewed on her words for a minute. "Where are we today?"

Leah licked her lips and crossed her legs. "You just left Oklahoma."

After a deep cleansing breath, I told her about my trip to Chicago; the friends I had made; James finding me; the friends that I lost.

"Do you still talk to Rosalie?" she asked.

"I haven't talk to her since last month." The day I'd hung up on her. "She's tried to call me but…"

"It's hard to talk to them because you miss them?"

Tears made my vision go blurry. "I miss them so much. They saved me and…" I took a deep breath and blinked away the tears. "We all move on with our lives, right?"

She narrowed her eyes a little, studying me. "How do you feel about Edward? I mean, it sounds like he genuinely cared about you and you said that you tried calling him. Have you talked to him since you left?"

I swallowed. "No, he won't call me back and he won't answer his phone."

"And?"

My leg began to bounce. "I miss him. I miss how he made me feel. I miss how he looked at me. I miss how safe and loved I felt when I was around him. And I'm…" I wasn't sure if I could say it because the grief was overwhelming.

"You're what?"

"I'm pissed." Dr. Clearwater's lips twitched as if she were fighting a smile. "I'm pissed that he made a decision for the both of us based on what he thought was right. It's like he's allergic to good feelings and happiness."

"Do you still think that coming back to Forks was the wrong decision?"

I grinded my teeth as I thought about her question. "Yes." She frowned. "Everyday, it hurts to think about what they are doing in Chicago; what I'm missing. How are Emily and Emmett getting along, how Sammy's third birthday was, if Edward is…if Edward is even missing me."

The timer dinged.

"You've done great today, Bella. For your homework, I want you to write in any way you feel comfortable—whether that's in journal or book form. I'd rather you write in your journal but that's up to you, as long as you're writing." I stood up and she walked me to the door. "Second, I want you to start at least one of your other projects, besides the book."

"I'll see you Tuesday, Dr. Clearwater."

"You're doing amazing," she praised. "You really are. Believe that."

I waved a quick goodbye to Gloria and walked fast to my car. As soon as I shut the door, I was sobbing into my palms. I didn't know it was possible to feel so many intense emotions at once. I wanted to go home and yell at my dad. I wanted to drive my car off a cliff. I wanted to call Edward and listen to his voicemail again, something I hadn't done in almost a month. I wanted to climb into bed and waste away. But best of all, I wanted to feel my feet pounding on the wet, slushy pavement. I wanted to feel my lungs burn. I wanted to feel my thigh muscles and calves burn from their lack of use. I wanted to run.

~~February~~

I hadn't been prepared for the hustle and bustle of the Fork's Diner when I had started there three weeks prior. It was only a diner, for God's sake but it was always busy. There were the usual crowds and then there were the folks that thought eating there was more of a treat so they only came in on the occasional weekend. There was no specialty. Everything was mediocre but it was the only place people could really dine in so it was treated as the best food in the town by the residents.

"Mike is such an asshole," Jessica exclaimed as she wiped down the front counter. "He's working tomorrow night."

I tried to decipher her pout. "Does he normally work on Fridays?"

She made a noise. "Yeah, but he could have taken it off. It's our first fucking Valentine's Day as a married couple."

"Languange, Jess!" Our boss, Paul called out from behind us. "People can hear you."

She rolled her eyes after he turned his back to us. "He told me that there are plenty of Valentine's Days in our future and not to get my panties in a twist. Can you believe that?"

Actually, I could. I had gone to school with Mike Newton and he didn't have a romantic bone in his body.

"You should do something nice for him, for when he gets home from work. Make him dinner. Buy him chocolates." Whatever the fuck you do for men on Valentine's Day.

Her face lit up. "Then, he'd feel really guilty for going to work! That's an awesome idea, Bella!" She grinned wickedly at me and then whispered, "I might even do that thing he likes with his balls."

Internally, I cringed but outwardly I shrugged, even though making her husband feel guilty hadn't been my intention. Whatever works, right?

Working with Jessica Newton wasn't easy at first, knowing that she was the one who'd spilled to James about my location. Essentially, it was her fault that he'd found me. After an hour long talk with Leah about misplaced blame, I mustered up the courage to talk to her. Of course, Jessica had no idea that she'd ratted me out. At one point, she asked me what happened to that hot guy that was pining over me. Unfortunately, I wasn't in the mood to talk so I blurted out the truth with a casual, "Oh, him? He's dead." Then I continued to fill the salt shakers with her staring me hard in the back of the head.

After I put in a good nine hours at the diner, I headed home. It was late and even though my dad had to work early in the morning, he always stayed up until I walked in the door. Things were awkward between us but at least I didn't feel like starting arguments for the sake of communication. Typically, our day consisted of three phrases: "Good morning", "Hungry?" and "Good night". It bothered me but it didn't. I wanted my dad back but I wasn't ready to face the problems that stood between us.

"Your mom called," he mumbled after he'd switched off the TV. He stood up and stretched, letting out a big yawn.

"Thanks," I mumbled back.

"Good night."

"Night."

After I counted my tips and put them in my money jar, I showered and got ready for bed. I switched off my light and turned on both of my night lights—one at the end of my bed and one up by my head. I'd just graduated from full out light to nightlights and it wasn't really working. Most nights, I'd close my eyes and sense the darkness, the danger surrounding me. Then I'd open my eyes and think about terrifying things that had happened in the dark. That would lead me to thoughts about Edward and the safety net he'd provided me by allowing me to share his bed.

Edward. I still hadn't called him since before Christmas. The anger had slowly morphed into understanding. It wasn't right how he'd dealt with the situation but I knew him. I knew that he was throwing in that last ditch effort in an attempt to protect me. Leah had put it into words for me.

"The night that James came back, how do you think that Edward felt?"

"Scared, I guess." It was formed more as a question than an answer.

"What about afterwards? When he saw you, your bruises and injuries?"

I thought back about what he'd told me when he saw me.

"I wish I could have kept him from hurting you…"

"He thought that he failed me," I mumbled. "He promised me that he'd keep me safe and…"

"He didn't," she finished. "How can he think that he can protect you when he let the one thing that terrifies you most, get you."

I shook my head. "But he didn't…it wasn't his fault. I told him that."

"From what you told me, Edward seems like a pretty stubborn guy. Have you ever heard the phrase, 'If you love something, let it go; if it comes back to you then—"

I cut her off, finishing it. "It's yours forever. If it doesn't, then it wasn't meant to be. You think he wants me to come back?"

"I don't know, Bella but if you've ever had to let something go that you loved, it's not easy."

As I lay in bed that night, for once I didn't think about Edward or my dad or even Oklahoma. I thought about my mom. When I was a freshman in high school, she left with one thought in her mind—her own happiness. All I wanted was for her to love me, for that unconditional love that a mother gives to her child but she didn't give it. Instead, she went in search of something that she's never found.

It was one thing that she left but it was another for her to avoid me. Phone calls were rare and appearances even rarer. I'd seen her a total of two times since she left and neither was filled with love. With nothing but time on my hands until I fell asleep, I thought back to my childhood. Had I done something to make her leave? Why had she been so miserable? I never remember her being so unhappy that she'd leave. It left me feeling empty.

Until I had a revelation.

Those first few months of my relationship with James flashed through my mind. He'd been nice to me, even though he was odd. The attention he gave me filled me with a completeness that I assumed was the beginnings of love but it never ventured any further. When he'd go a couple of days without seeing me, he'd smile as if I'd been gone for days.

I sat up in bed and chewed on my lip. When the shadows of the nightlight became too much, I clicked on the lamp beside my bed. When I told James that I'd marry him was it because I'd missed those feelings with my own mother? Was I blind to the warning signs simply because I enjoyed feeling wanted by someone? My dad had always been there for me but his emotional side was stunted, especially after my mom left. He took care of me but there were countless times that I ached for physical contact but he wasn't emotionally capable.

James had been the first guy I'd let into my life.

With a new urgency and a sense of hope, I hopped out of bed and started to write.

~~March~~

"Do you talk to your dad?" Leah asked, sitting Indian style in her big office chair.

"Not really."

"You need to."

"It'll suck. Big time."

"That's your homework."

I cringed. "I don't think I'm ready."

"He's your dad, Bella. You owe this to each other."

"Shit."

"That's your homework," she repeated.

"The dog might eat it."

~~April~~

"What happened?" My dad jumped up from the couch and looked at my foot.

I limped over to his big recliner and plopped down. "I sprained my ankle in class."

"Karate class?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal. I just need to take it easy for a couple of days."

"Did you go to the doctor?"

"Our instructor is an EMT and he told me what to do."

He grunted and sat back down. "You really like those classes, don't you?"

I nodded. "I do. I feel stronger."

His fingers tweaked at his moustache. "How would you feel about learning how to shoot?"

"A gun?"

The corner of his mouth twitched as if he was on the verge of saying something sarcastic but he stopped himself. "Yeah, a gun. I could take you shooting, if you're interested. Teach you how to fire a weapon."
My gut reaction was to decline but I really wanted to get whatever it was that we lost, back. I missed him and this was a chance to salvage some form of relationship. There were things that needed to be said and I wasn't sure if we'd ever really talk about it but this was a start.

"Sure, I'd love to."

"Oh, before I forget, some detectives in Oklahoma City called and they want to send up a book of missing persons for you to look through. See if you recognize any of them."

My throat closed as I nodded. "Took them long enough."

He shrugged. "Things move a little slow when an investigation involves several states."

"Just let me know when."

"Night, Bella."

"Night, dad."

He moved past me but stopped before he reached his room. "I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you."

Before I could respond, he was in his room behind the closed door. I let out a breath and let his last words sink in. It didn't hit me until then, just how much I'd missed my father.

I laid in bed that night thinking about that girl and what James had done to her. For the first time, I felt a huge swell of relief that James was dead. There had been no charges pressed against Jake, which I was grateful for and the truth had been revealed about James. His buddies down in Oklahoma that he served with had no idea, or at least they claimed they didn't. The only one who had to answer to the law was Arthur Livingston for making James that key to earn some extra cash.

A few days later, I was on my lunch break and sitting in my dad's office with a binder in my hands. It was accompanied by a detective from Oklahoma City who didn't seem too thrilled with being in Forks. The rain messed with his hair.

I leafed through page after page, the faces blurring together as I studied each one. Successfully, I was keeping my emotions in check but barely. I was looking for a girl that was dead. Dead because of me. If it weren't for me, she'd be at home, maybe with her parents or boyfriend. Maybe, one day she would have gotten married and had a baby. That child would never exist because of me. I took a deep breath and turned the page.

Nothing.

I looked up at the detective. "I'm not sure if I would remember her."

"Take your time, Ms. Swan."

I flipped and flipped, still not recognizing anything. There were blondes but they didn't have her nose or her mouth or her tiny frame. When I got to the last page, I'd given up hope…then there she was: Curly blond hair, a huge smile and big vibrant blue eyes. That was her.

I gasped softly and covered my mouth with my hand.

"Bella, do you see her?" My dad asked, rising up from his chair.

I pointed to her picture and looked at the detective.

"That's the girl that he killed?" My dad asked.

"Yeah," I squeaked. "That's her."

"Are you sure?" The detective asked.

I looked at her again, studying her face. "That's her. I'm positive. What's her name?"

He shook his head. "We can't give you that and besides, all that information is back in Oklahoma."

I choked on a sob as the detective took the binder from me and closed it.

"There are people looking for her?" The detective didn't answer. "T-there are people who love her and will miss her?"

My dad put a hesitant hand on my shoulder. The detective sighed and looked annoyed to have to calm down the crazy girl.

"Ms. Swan, if it's of any comfort, I assure you that her family will be able to put her to rest, now. They may not find a body but they'll at least know what happened."

It didn't sound very comforting. Her family was still probably clinging onto some thread of hope that she was still alive out there somewhere. People's lives would never be the same.

"Bella, you didn't do this," My dad told me after the Detective left. "This isn't your fault."

As rocky as our relationship had been, he'd always been able to read me.

"How can I ever forgive myself for that? She's dead. She's dead because I was being a stubborn idiot. If I had just done what he told me to do…"

I covered my face with my hands and sobbed. I'd thought about that girl a lot but I had always felt emotionally disconnected until I saw her happy, alive face staring back at me through that picture. She was a person; another victim. My head hurt from sobbing. My whole body ached. It felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest.

Then I felt strong arms envelope me into an embrace. My dad's whispered words in my ear and big hands rubbing my back.

~~May~~

The sound of my feet hitting the wet pavement was as soothing as a lullaby. I'd been running for over three months and it was like my own personal form of therapy. Bad memories mingled with the good; good thoughts outweighed the bad until things just seemed to make more sense. I couldn't explain it. Perhaps, it was my subconscious remembering the way Edward made me feel when he started running with me, empowered and stronger. Or maybe it was just something from my past, a piece of my old self that was peeking out like sunshine through the cracks of a dilapidated fence.

I was up to eight miles a day and I got up early to do it. Sleeping was still something that I didn't enjoy, particularly because of the dark. I'd gotten used to my nightlights but that didn't mean that I was comfortable with it. Sometimes, I'd wake up in the middle of the night and panic, and then it would take me hours to get back to sleep. So, instead of just laying there, I'd get up and run.

My dad was pouring himself a cup of coffee when I got back. He turned around and looked at me as I stretched my quads against the kitchen wall.

"You still want to go today?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," I said, still panting.

Things had been better between my dad and me ever since the day I cried in his arms after I'd seen the picture of the girl. It still haunted me but I'd finally come to terms with the fact that it was James who'd killed her. There was still guilt and I didn't ever see that subsiding but I didn't want her dead. It wasn't me who drugged her and kidnapped her. She was in that situation because of James and he was the one that killed her. But God, I was still so sad for her…

"Well, get dressed and we'll get to it." He took a sip of coffee and raised his eyebrows at me.

I showered and dressed in old jeans, a sweatshirt and a pair of my mud boots. With my hair pulled up into a ponytail, I followed him out the door. We piled into his cruiser and he started driving in silence.

"You sure you're going to be warm enough?" he asked as we got out of his truck.

I shrugged. "We'll see."

"I brought you something for your ears." He handed me a little bag with disposable ear plugs.

"Is that because of the gun or you?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Ha ha."

After some careful common sense instructions like don't point the gun at another person whether it's loaded or not and to always click on the safety when you're not planning on using it, he showed me how to hold it. Then he showed me how to stand, with my feet shoulder length apart, my left foot more forward than my right.

"You're a pretty good teacher," I pointed out. "You should look into teaching at the Police Academy."

He shot me a curious look, probably trying to judge whether my comment was sarcastic or not. "I don't have the education to do something like that."

"Well, then get it."

"You really have changed, you know that?" he said, grinning and shaking his head.

I stiffened and crossed my arms over my chest. "Don't you think that it would be pretty strange if I hadn't changed after what I went through?"

"That's not what I meant. I meant that you've changed since you got back to Forks." He shuffled his feet against the grass. "You had me pretty worried."

This was it. This was the talk that Leah had been badgering me about for months. It was going to be painful and I wasn't looking forward to it.

"I'm sorry, dad." I paused and watched a few common loons waddle toward a pond. "I don't want you to be worried about me."

"How can I not be, Bells?" It was the first time that he'd used my nickname in months and a flood of relief crashed through me. "You stopped eating, sleeping…living. You know I was desperate when I called Renee for help. I thought that maybe you just needed a woman to talk to."

I chuckled softly. "I did but it wasn't Renee, that's for sure."

"Dr. Clearwater?" I nodded. "I'll have to send her some flowers or something."

"I mean it, though. I'm sorry."

He looked at me for so long that his gaze grew uncomfortable. My skin started to prickle and I looked down at my boots. "No, I'm sorry, Bella. I should have listened to my gut when you left for Oklahoma with that…"

"What did your gut say?"

"It said that you were too young and too good to be going off on your own with some guy who didn't even speak to you for months. I wanted to let you make your own mistakes. The next day, I had to stop myself from boarding a plane and heading out there to make sure that you were okay. God dammit, I should have.

"Then you called a few days later and…you sounded good. A little off but good. How could I have not realized that you were scared out of your mind? I should have…I should have sensed it. I'm a cop for Christ's sake."

"You couldn't have known then and…" I took a deep breath and exhaled. "You couldn't have known when he showed up on your doorstep telling you that I got cold feet and ran. I'm sorry for holding that against you. It was wrong."

"I beat myself up everyday, Bella. Every God damn day. When I think about those months that he was here, pretending to look for you because he loved you. He told me stories about things that happened in Oklahoma, how excited you were to pick out your wedding dress. I should have known right there how full of shit he was."

My laugh was wet with tears. "It's done. Over. In the past. I'm ready to just move on and…and I've missed you, Dad."

He swallowed and his face grew taut before he took three steps and engulfed me in his arms. "I've missed you too…more than you know."

~~June~~

The sound of the first ring was incredibly loud in my ear. My reflection looked back at me with a concerned look on its face. It said, "What the fuck are you doing?" I wasn't sure. All I knew is that I was going on a date. I'd gotten dressed up, made up and I'd even curled my hair but here I was—with ten minutes to spare—making a long overdue phone call.

"Hello?" Her voice was sweet and musical.

"Rose?"

She gasped. "Bella? What the ffff…heck, girl? How are you? I've tried calling you like a million times but you never call me back!" Her voice became muffled as she yelled to someone. "It's Bella!"

I imagined everyone there: The kids, Emmett and most importantly, Edward. The date I was going on had been Leah's idea after I told her that I was still in love with Edward. She wanted me to experience time with a man who wasn't connected nor knew about the situation in Oklahoma. Apparently, my feelings for Edward could be explained by one of her theories involving trauma. I told her she was wrong and she dared me to prove it.

"Emmett is speechless. I should have you call more often."

I giggled and tried not to cry. "I'm sorry, Rose. The last time I talked to you—back in December—I was, well, I was pretty fucked up. I'm better now."

"You sound better," she remarked. "What are you up to?"

With an enthusiasm I didn't know existed, I told her in few details what I was doing: My job, my running and the martial arts class that I didn't feel I could survive without.

"That sounds freaking amazing. I'm so proud of you, Bella!"

"Thanks, Rose. What about you guys? What is the McCarty family up to?"

"Did I ever tell you that Emmett found another job?"

"No! That's awesome! Where?"

"A little bookstore down the street that has this amazing owner—you'd love her. She's a lifesaver."

I gasped. "Oh, that's awesome! How is Esme?"

"She's good and disappointed that she hasn't heard from you." My heart broke at the thought of Esme and guilt made my throat tight. "Emily and Emmett finally bonded thanks to a little gift that he bought for her."

"What was that?"

"Her first cell phone," she said with disdain. "But at least it gives me something to take away from her and she feels like she's really being punished."

She chatted about her family. Sammy had started preschool with help from the state and Carlisle. He put up a fight for them, a fight that never should have been fought. Witnessing Rose's happiness was bittersweet because I still wanted to be there with them, to be a part of it.

"How's Edward?" I held my breath.

There was a pregnant pause. "Honestly, Bella, he's not good. For months, he's been off, ever since you left but yesterday…" She paused to shush Emmett. "I'm not supposed to be telling anyone this but I'm going to because I'm worried about the idiot. Yesterday, Edward got a visit from someone he used to go to school with. This guy came out of nowhere to tell him that his dad is on his deathbed."

I sat down on the bed. "Oh, Jeez."

"Yeah, and get this—his dad is asking for him…says he wants to talk to him before he dies."

"What's he going to do?"

"Who knows what he's going to do. He doesn't ever talk to anyone but if I know Edward, he's going to go. How could he turn down a little self-punishment, right? The guy thrives on pain."

"Same old Edward," I mumbled.

She chuckled dryly. "You got that right."

Our conversation was interrupted by a knock on my door. "Bella, your date is here!" My dad's spat out the word "date" like he'd just found a rat dropping in his pudding.

"Okay! Thanks! Tell him I'll be right down!"

"Did he just say that your date is waiting for you? You're going on a date?"

"It's an experiment, really. Something my therapist wanted me to do."

She snorted. "Well, have fun on your experiment. Don't do anything I wouldn't' do."

The date was a success; on my part, anyway. Ben Cheney was a nice guy but his jaw wasn't sharp, his eyes weren't green, and he didn't practice any sweet talk on his car. He wasn't Edward. The feelings I had for Edward were deep, ingrained into my soul. I was past the anger, the tears and the regrets that I had when I thought about him. Now, I was just missing him. I missed the way he grinned, the way he knew just what to say to kick my ass in gear, the way he touched me and held my hand when he knew that I was afraid.

As I lay in bed that night, my thoughts raced around in my head. Edward was in pain. Edward needed someone that he could trust. Could he still trust me? What would he do if I just showed up on his doorstep? God, I missed him. I ached to see him, touch him, hug him. And Rose. And Esme. And Everyone.

I shot out of bed. Life was too short. There weren't many people in this world that would have been lucky enough to have been loved, protected, and saved like I was. It was time that I gave a little of that love back.

Chicago, here I come.

A/N: I'm going back to bed. Thank you for all the love and support especially from my prereader, Softragoo-if anyone can make me smile when I wanna cry, it's her. Thank you, BB. Also, thanks to my Facebook girls who give me so much inspiration to keep truckin'!

There will be more answers in the next chapter and we will meet a new addition to this little fucked up cast. Who do you think it will be? See ya next Tuesday!