I've been remiss in not adding a disclaimer. None of this is mine other than the overactive imagination.
This story deals with mental illness and violence. Please pass if that doesn't work for you.
Kitchmill and StoryPainter from PTB are great! I never leave well-enough alone, so all errors are my own. Thank you CindyWindy for all the help!
Here we go!
"Bella, get up!"
Charlie was yelling at me. Had I fallen asleep?
Sitting up, the comforter fell back, and I shivered. There was still pain in my jaw, but it was dull compared to the night before. When I looked around, I saw that the sun was rising.
"Put your hat on. We're going to the john."
The damned hat was missing, and it took me precious minutes to find it. Charlie quickly lost patience. When he grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the backseat, I stumbled, and without his tight grip, I would have fallen. Even without seeing the red marks, I knew I'd have a tremendous bruise tomorrow.
My feet didn't seem to be working properly. Charlie walked quickly, and it took all my concentration to move forward. We got to the men's room door, and I started to panic when I heard someone coughing inside. I stopped at the threshold; the separation of restrooms so ingrained in me that I couldn't seem to move. It reminded me of the neighbor's dog—the one that wouldn't leave the yard because of that shock-collar. I guessed that entering an occupied men's room was the teenage girl's equivalent to an invisible fence.
At that thought, I began to giggle, and when it started, I couldn't seem to turn it off. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. Charlie just dragged me inside and shoved me in a stall. Under the door, I could see his feet. He was standing guard until I finished. I heard the other man finish peeing and zip up, leaving the bathroom without washing his hands. Another chance to ask for help was gone.
I had to fight the groggy feeling while coordinating loose clothing and keeping my phone from falling. My heart sank when I saw there were no new messages from Edward. I managed to do my business and get myself pulled back together.
When we were done, Charlie went to the attached cafe and picked up subs and water bottles, peeling bills off a big roll of cash. We never had that kind of money, and I wondered where it came from. Did he break into something else while I was sleeping or sell the joints? Maybe I didn't want to know. The walk back to the car went faster and felt more real somehow. My eyes scanned the lot, and I couldn't help but look for ways to signal for help.
"Stop gawking and follow me," Charlie barked in a way that let me know he was watching.
As we reached the SUV, he had me crawl in the back, and he handed over one of the subs. Before I could protest, he held out another pain pill. I didn't want to take it, but the memory of last time was still fresh in my mind. Deciding I couldn't fight him again, I took it from his hand and downed it with some water.
The sub was wilted and gray. I wasn't hungry, but I knew I needed to eat. Pulling it into tiny bites I didn't have to chew, I managed about a quarter of it before I set it on the floor and rolled over.
Later, there was rustling, and heavy hands pushed something small between my lips. Why wouldn't he leave me alone? I choked and gasped on the water before closing my eyes, sinking back into the groggy emptiness.
In my dream, Charlie was asleep at the wheel. A horn startled him awake. He cursed at the car in his lane then veered hard to the right. I heard him muttering about dangerous drivers and staying off the road when there were so many crazies out.
Then it was daylight again. Charlie held my right arm as I stumbled into another men's room. It was a truck stop, but this one was much busier than the others. Everything was fuzzy and out of focus. When we were out of the bathroom, he warned me not to talk to anyone before dropping me in a chair and walking away. It was too loud and too bright. I put my head down and closed my eyes.
"You okay, son?" a man with a gray ponytail and too-white teeth asked me from the next table over. As I lifted my head, my cheek stuck to the grungy tabletop, peeling away like cellophane off a cheap slice of cheese.
"Huh?" was all I could answer. I just want to sleep.
"I asked if you were okay."
Was I? Wait! I was supposed to be looking for something! No. I was supposed to do something. I had just opened my mouth when I heard Charlie.
"What do you want?" he asked the man. There was a greasy smell coming from the bag he held, and my stomach turned. I put my head back down.
"Your boy there don't look right. He needs a doctor. Look at that bruise on his face."
"He likes to fight and tied one on last night. You know how boys are." Charlie's gentle, reproachful tone made him sound like father of the year. "Get up, son. It's time to go." He lifted me by my arm, only this time it took longer to get my feet working, and the floor seemed to pitch and roll.
When we got back to the car, Charlie fed me bits of something tasteless before shoving two red pills in my mouth. This time, I didn't even consider fighting him. Until Edward could get to me, sleep was all I wanted.
The new dreams seemed more vivid: peeing in the bushes with my father holding me up by my arms, Charlie finding my phone and setting it under the car tire before driving away, curses and mutterings about saving me from the demon who was trying to steal my soul.
I'd met demons. They're frightening creatures with red eyes. He protected me from the demons. Even though my brain wasn't working well enough to come up with a name, I could picture him in my mind. He was coming to rescue me.
Charlie slammed on the brakes, and the car careened to the side, throwing me against the front seat. Fresh waves of pain and fear shot through me, clearing some of the drug haze.
Edward was standing in the middle of the road. His clothes were practically shredded, and I knew he must have run the entire way from Alaska. The sun was on the horizon, just breaking over the tops of the cornfield. In the half light, Edward looked like the demon Charlie feared. Then he was gone.
For a split-second, Edward's face appeared in the passenger side window, gazing at me. His expression shifted from relief, to horror, to fury before he was gone again.
Charlie's door groaned as it was ripped from the hinges. From his seat, he arced through the air, landing in the ditch next to the road. He scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but Edward suddenly appeared in his path. I was torn between two thoughts: Thank God it's over, and Charlie needs help.
With barely contained fury, Edward moved toward Charlie. He'd never let me watch him hunt, but I was sure that was how he looked when he stalked his prey.
"Are you going to shoot me, Charlie?" Edward taunted. "Go ahead if it makes you feel better! It won't slow me down. I'll just keep coming." He looked Charlie up and down as though he were spoiled meat. "You have no idea how much I want to kill you, but that would hurt Bella."
Charlie's eyes were wild, flicking from Edward to me. "What are you? Why won't you leave her alone?" He was trembling and had to hold the gun with both hands.
"It doesn't matter what I am. I love her, and I would never hurt her. Especially not the way you have!"
"I was protecting her! And I will keep protecting her." Charlie twisted, turning the gun from Edward to me. His expressionless eyes narrowed as he started firing.
Once again, time seemed to slow down.
Edward reached me just as pain exploded in my neck. I heard three small pings and knew Edward had managed to shield me from the rest of the bullets.
Corn stalks rustled in the distance just before I heard Emmett's voice. "Hold still, Charlie. I don't want to hurt you."
"Bella! Don't let him near you!" Charlie's voice called. "Answer me! Do as you're told!"
I couldn't breathe. Oh, God. This was how it was ending. Frantically, I grasped at Edward, using his tattered shirt to pull him closer.
He bent low, bringing his mouth to my neck as though he could read my mind.
"Hey, Esme." I could have asked how Charlie was, but I didn't need to bother. He was always the same. I dutifully emptied my pockets into the visitor's basket. Charlie was a risk to himself, so no one was allowed to bring anything in without Carlisle's permission.
She escorted me into the room, and I sat near the door waiting patiently for her to leave. Charlie was usually in this room in the afternoons. If it wasn't baseball season, they would replay recorded games for him.
As soon as the door closed, He looked up at me and sneered. "Why do you keep coming back? Stay away from me. Do you hear? You might look like her, but my Bella is gone. Now, you're just like the rest of them. I won't let you take my soul."
I didn't say anything. He would only get more agitated, and Esme would send me away before my time was up.
I spent my visiting hour watching Charlie pace, pondering the events that had brought us here. My father spent the hour calling me names and berating my new family. He started swearing when Esme buzzed Carlisle into the room and handed him a clipboard.
"How's our patient today?" he asked, looking from Charlie to me before flipping through the chart.
"Always the same," I said.
"Come to gloat that you still have me locked up?"
I'm still not sure what happened during my change. Someone—I've never really cared enough to find out who—convinced Edward that he couldn't kill Charlie. They thought it would be too hard on me. For the better part of a year, he's been in this little cottage as our lone patient. Well, I guess he's a prisoner if you want to look at it that way.
Carlisle sighed. "Charlie, we've talked about this at length. We can't let you go until you accept what we are. If we can't trust you with our secrets, we'll have to keep you here. There really aren't many choices left to us when someone knows as much as you do." He made notes on the chart as he spoke.
They'd waited until I was past the worst of my newborn craze to tell him the truth about vampires. Carlisle had hoped that Charlie was redeemable, and that once he had the missing puzzle piece, my father's reality would be restored. Alice had been no help in determining what was going to happen; Charlie was too unstable.
I'd sat in this very chair when they told him the truth, holding my breath while the burning tore at my throat. It took everything I had not to rip into Charlie's neck when he'd launched himself at me, screaming about killing monsters.
I hadn't been surprised by his reaction. I'd never really held out any hope. There was nothing left of Charlie inside that body. The father who had loved me could never have done those things to me. I'd enjoyed being right about that one.
Charlie looked at me and made a scoffing sound. "You know, Carlisle, every time you say that, it sounds a little more like a threat. Well, maybe your 'options' don't sound so bad. I'd rather be dead than a prisoner for the rest of my life just because that demon wants to torture me!" he shouted, pointing in my direction.
That was when Esme came to get me. Once Charlie raised his voice, my time was up. I gathered my belongings and left.
An early winter storm was rolling in, tossing leaves around the yard. I began the short walk between our one patient private clinic and the main house. Edward was looking out our bedroom window, watching my approach. Before, Charlie had watched my every move. Now, Edward did.
I knew the family was worried about me. Evidently, I wasn't transitioning to my new life very well. Sometimes, I heard them talking about it. About me.
A strong gust cut through the trees, pushing my collar up and sending my wig askew. Cursing long and low, I pulled it straight. It wouldn't matter how long I lived, I'd never get used to it. Another sin to lay at my father's feet.
The light spilling from our bedroom window framed Edward perfectly, like a beacon in the night. He was waiting for me to come to him. Well, he'd have to keep waiting.
I turned and headed into the forest, tossing the wig as I started to run. If I went back, they'd coop me up in the house, and I was angry and eager to move. Each visit to Charlie brought those days back, reopening wounds I refused to let heal. I'd only end up pacing with them whispering behind my back. It made me crazy when they whispered about me.
Charlie was right. I did want to keep him here. I wasn't going to let him get away with what he did to me. As far as I was concerned, his time in our makeshift mental health facility was pure justice. He could spend the rest of his natural life locked up, and I'd grit my teeth, torturing him with my presence every day until he breathed his last.
After all, what were the options? Even if he were sane, Charlie knew too much to let go, and it was clear that he couldn't keep his mouth shut. I refused to kill him myself, and I wouldn't let the family do it; death would be too easy.
Last year, Charlie had decided to save me from things he didn't understand. Now, it was my chance to return the favor. I could make sure he was protected and lived a nice long life. After all, it was for his own good.
Happy Halloween!