A/N: This story has no Beta. All spelling errors and mistakes are my own.

Chapter Playlist:
Broken - Seether ft Amy Lee / Never Too Late - Three Days Grace

BPOV

Step One: Denial.

I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a mouth so dry it almost choked me.
I sat up slowly and rubbed my eyes. I was in my own bed. How? I couldn't remember leaving the hospital last night. Did Edward bring me home?
I tentatively left the comfort of my bed and made my way to the bathroom. My eyes were red and puffy, my hair sticking up, I looked dreadful. I dragged a brush through my unruly hair and made my way downstairs.
I had no appetite. I searched the cupboards for painkillers and almost cracked a smile when I found some Aspirin.
The house was quiet. Too quiet now that my father was no longer here.
It was never this quiet when he was just in hospital. This is different.
I chewed on my lip, holding back more tears. I wanted to cry. I wanted to kick and scream. This wasn't fair. It was never supposed to end this way. He was meant to get better. He was meant to come home, cured and full of life. I shook my head, there was no point dwelling on what should have beens. This happened and now I had to organise and attend to a hundred different things.
It's Sunday, Swan.
It's Sunday. So, I couldn't do anything today. Thanks for the reminder.
I leaned against the kitchen unit and stared into the empty lounge.
What was I to do now?
I grabbed the blanket from table and wrapped it around myself. I curled up in a ball on the couch and closed my eyes, thinking back to when I had a family.

"Bella, grab that blanket please." My mom smiled warmly at me as she prepared the picnic basket.
I nodded and skipped over, bundling the blanket under my arm, "When are we going?" I asked impatiently.
My mother laughed and the sound of it made me grin from ear to ear. She tucked my hair behind my ear, "Soon." She promised. My mom made the best chocolate brownies ever, and she gave the best hugs. I looked like her, I just didn't have her hair colour. She always told me that she was my mom first and a friend second, but I didn't believe that. She was my best friend no matter what.
"Soon." I nodded and placed the blanket next to the basket. I had been looking forward to this day for ages. We were going to Colman Park for a picnic.
"Renée?" My dad bounded down the stairs and scratched the top of his head.
"Mhmm?" My mom placed a spoon in the sink and turn to smile at my dad.
"You haven't seen my wallet anywhere?"
My mom rolled her eyes, "Charlie, it's where you always leave it."
I giggled quietly and rushed to get my father's wallet, "Here you go, dad."
He chuckled and ruffled my hair, "Thanks, kid."
My mom kissed my dad's cheek and smiled fondly at him, "Are you ready?"
My dad nodded, "Ready. Are you ready, kid?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
I nodded excitedly, "Ready!"
We all got into the car, music turned up, and drove to Colman Park. It was a warm, sunny day in Mount Baker, Seattle, and it was going to be the best day ever.

We lay the blanket down on the grass and sat on top of it, unpacking the basket. My mom handed me a plastic cup and smiled warmly, "You can have one glass of cola."
I frowned, "Just one?"
My dad nodded, "We don't the tooth fairy giving us a row, kid."
I resisted rolling my eyes. I was eight. I didn't believe in the tooth fairy anymore.
My mom laughed and sat plates and cutlery onto the blanket, "Too much sugar isn't good, Bella."
"I know." I scowled. I stared out at the water infront of us and beamed, "Can we go swimming?"
"We didn't bring our bathing suits." My dad answered, tucking in to his sandwich.
"Maybe another day, sweetheart." My mom smiled and handed my a plate of salad.
"Okay."
Another day.

I wished I could cry. But there were no more tears to shed. I sat up and stared blankly at the wall in front of me.
"Take care of him, mom." I mumbled. He was with her now. You would think that would bring me some comfort, but it didn't. It just made me more angry and confused.
I thought back to Dr. Cullen's words from yesterday.
"He suffered a massive heart attack."
I scoffed to myself. A fucking heart attack.
Was it just to good to be true? That he was going to be cancer free? Was it that good to be true that God, or who ever the fuck decides it's your time, decided to take him from me anyway?
Someone knocked on the front door then, and I groaned to myself. There was no way I was answering that. I heard whoever it was try the door handle, and I immediately knew who it was. Fucking Cullen.
"Bella!" He shouted, knocking on the door again.
"Fuck off." I mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around me. I didn't want to see or speak to anyone. Including him.
"Make him go away. Make him go away." I whispered.
I heard a knock from the kitchen, and I turned, narrowing my eyes when I saw Edward. He was always trying to push his luck.
"Go away." I growled, standing from the couch.
"I just want to make sure you're okay." He responded through the glass.
If I'm okay? Seriously?
"I don't want your sympathy, Edward."
"You accepted it yesterday!" He hissed back.
What an asshole. I gave him the finger and stormed up to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I wasn't fucking okay. Wasn't that obvious?

Step Two: Anger

"Now Miss Swan, your father took great care when organising his personal affairs." Mr. Clearwater sifted through paper and wrote a few things down before looking up at me. He was my father's lawyer. Evidently, when we moved to Phoenix he was my father's first port of call incase anything happened. I had been sitting with him for almost half an hour, talking through my father's finances.
I leaned back in my seat and sighed, "Okay?"
"His funeral expenses have been covered by himself and by his life insurance."
I snorted inwardly, thanks dad. Guess that was one less thing I had to worry about.
"It's very basic. He wished to be cremated, so all you have to do is discuss with a funeral director about which date you prefer."
My eyebrows knitted together, "All I have to do? All I have to do?" I shook my head, "I'm sorry if I'm being a bit unreasonable here, but that is not all I have to do." I have to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do, stay here or go back to Forks, clear out my father's things, notify Forks Police Department and a multitude of other things. This guy had no fucking clue.
Mr. Clearwater cleared his throat, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest-"
"It's fine." I snapped, "What else is there?"
"Just the payment of your father's life insurance." He replied, sliding a piece of paper over to me.
I glanced at it and almost choked, "Forty thousand dollars?" Was this guy for real?
Mr. Clearwater nodded, "Your father had been paying into his insurance for a good few years. I just need your signature."
I lifted the pen from the table and took a deep breath. What the fuck was I going to do with all that money?
College? Get a car? Come on, Swan.
I signed across the line and slid the paper back to him, "Are we done here?"
He placed the paper into his briefcase and nodded, "Yes."
"Great." I stood and forced a smile, "I'll show you out."
I opened the front door and stared at the floor as he made his way to me, "I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Swan."
I nodded, "Everyone is." I replied wryly.

I made my way up to my father's bedroom and stood in the doorway, staring inside.
I had to get this done. There was no point in putting it off. It would just hurt more the longer I waited. The house felt colder and smaller somehow without him. I wrapped my arms around myself and tentatively walked into his room.
I drew in a deep breath, "Okay." I whispered to myself, "Okay."
I opened his wardrobe and began removing his clothing, piling it all onto his bed. It could go to the nearest charity shop or something.
Take your time.
I stopped short, spotting my father's favourite shirt. I couldn't help but smile. It was his favourite but I hated it. It was the most ugliest shade of purple. The last time he wore it was when we arrived here in Phoenix. He told me it made him look younger. I snorted to myself and hung it back in the wardrobe along with his Forks PD sweatshirt.
I lifted his paperwork from the nightstand and began sorting through it. Most of it was medical appointments and utility bills. I sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed.
You should have waited.
No. This needed to be done. This needed to be done now. I stood up, collecting the paperwork and made my way downstairs, stuffing them into a drawer for safe keeping, before raiding the kitchen for Bourbon.
Seriously?
Yes, fucking seriously. I think I was entitled to have a drink.
I grabbed a bottle from the cupboard and quickly unscrewed the cap before taking a long, welcome gulp. I needed something to numb me. And this would help me.
"Dad…" I whispered as I sat down on the couch with my Bourbon, "If you can hear me, I want you to know that you really fucked up." I took a drink and sighed, "I told you to stop…I told you to stop smoking." I shook my head and stared up at the ceiling, "I told you to take care of yourself." Tears began to fill my eyes and my throat constricted, "You fucked up. But it's okay." I wiped my cheek and smiled to myself, "I'm sure mom is giving you enough grief as it is. She's probably pointing her finger in your face and giving you the biggest lecture ever." I laughed quietly through my tears, "I fucking miss you, dad."
I pulled the blanket from the couch over me and stared at my almost empty bottle, "Please come back." I whispered, "Please." I wiped away my tears angrily, "Fucking come back." I sobbed, "I can't do this. I'm not strong enough to do this. This isn't fair!"
I rested my head on the arm rest and closed my eyes, trying to calm my breathing.
You can do this.
How? How could I? There's no one here to help me. No one.

I woke up on the couch Tuesday morning. I figured I must've passed out. Slowly, I sat up, that same feeling of grief and anger flooding over me again. Today was the day I had to seriously decide on some things.
I couldn't remember making my way to my bedroom, but I stood staring at the clothes in my wardrobe.
Just pick something.
Just pick something, sure. How hard could it be?
Evidently, extremely hard. I couldn't muster the energy to walk two steps to pick up a pair of jeans. I pull my sweats off and sighed deeply as I dragged my jeans on. They felt heavy. I made my way to my father's room and pulled his Forks PD sweater over my head. I looked like shit, I felt like shit. I portrayed an excellent depiction of my life.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Miss Swan." Ms. Gray sat across from me, twirling a pen between her fingers, "Your father has already covered the expenses, so that's one less thing to be worrying about."
I raised a brow. What was with these people? "Yeah." I muttered, staring at the table.
"Have you thought of a date?" She asked, smiling kindly at me.
I shrugged, "Does it really matter?" What difference would it make if it was the 28th or the 30th? The outcome would still be the same.
Ms. Gray pursed her lip, "Not really, no."
I nodded and pulled the sleeves of my father's sweatshirt down past my wrists, "Exactly. So, what dates do you have available?"
She glanced through the papers in front of her, "There is the twenty second of September…the twenty third and then the twenty fifth."
"Next week? Nothing sooner?"
She shook her head, "I'm sorry, that's the closest dates we have."
Just pick a date.
I rolled my eyes, "Fine. Whatever. The twenty second will just have to do."
Ms. Gray frowned, "Miss Swan, if I may be so bold…but you are setting a date for your father's cremation. Wouldn't you like some more time to think about it?"
I narrowed my eyes at her, "You may not be so bold." I stood up and pushed my chair back under the table angrily, "The twenty second will do just fine. Thank you for your time."
I marched out of the funeral parlour and sat down on the steps outside. That was one thing off the list.
Seriously, Swan?
Seriously. I had to keep busy and not dwell on it. I had to be emotionless. It was the only way I could do this.

I stared at the mess in the kitchen and chewed on my bottom lip. I couldn't be bothered cleaning it up. I couldn't be bothered doing much of anything.
Taking a shower would probably be a better option anyway. And that's what I did.
I stood under the hot water, lifting my face to meet it. It was welcome, comforting and safe.
I gritted my teeth, trying hard not to think about anything other than the water beating on my skin. I grabbed the washcloth and scrubbed my skin.
Take it easy, Swan.
I scrubbed until my skin was raw. I had to get this pain off me. I had to wash away these feelings, I had to learn how to breathe again.
My skin stung as I stood under the water, telling me to stop. I dropped the wash cloth and leaned my head against the tiles, closing my eyes.
Once I was dried and back in my sweats, I made my way downstairs, ignoring the growing pile of empty Bourbon bottles. I'll get to them later.
I jumped when someone knocked loudly on the front door.
Take three guesses.
"Bella!" Edward shouted, "Let me in."
I rolled my eyes. Why couldn't he just get the hint?
"Damn it, Swan! Let me in!"
I deliberated for a moment, before deciding to just let him in, that way he could fuck off. I unlocked the door and made my way to the couch, Edward following behind.
"Jesus Christ." He whispered. I knew what he was talking about. Didn't anyone tell him it was rude to pass comment on someone else's home?
"Get a good look?" I muttered sourly.
"Talk to me." He took a seat across from me, watching me intently.
I sighed, "I have nothing to say."
"Come on, Bella. Don't push me away." He leaned forward, searching my eyes.
"I don't understand why you're here." I whispered, "I don't understand why you can't leave me to my own devices. I want to be left alone."
"But Bella-"
"My dad is dead, Edward." I hissed through my tears, "Fucking dead, okay? And nothing you can say or do is going to change that." Didn't he understand that? No amount of sympathy or 'talking' was ever going to bring him back.
"I know, I just-"
"You were just thinking about yourself." I wiped my eyes and smirked, "As usual. You never think of anyone but yourself."
Chill out.
I couldn't. He didn't come here to make sure I was okay. He came here to calm his own ego, to gather information no doubt.
"I came here to see you. I came here to make sure you're okay, I've been going crazy, wondering how you are."
I chewed the inside of my mouth and nodded, "You were going crazy. That just proves my point."
"I didn't come here to argue, Bella." He muttered.
"Well, I don't know what else to say to you." I grabbed the cushion next to me and hugged it to my chest. I leaned my cheek against the fabric and stared at the wall again.
"Do you…do you have anyone helping you to, you know, organise things?" He asked carefully.
What kind of question was that?
I narrowed my eyes, "No. My mother is dead and my dad had no brothers and sisters."
"Oh." He looked sheepish, "I'm sorry."
I leaned back against the couch, sighing deeply. What was this? A therapy session?
Talk to him.
I chewed my lip, why should I? No amount of talking was ever going to make me feel better. Edward wasn't my shrink.
Fucking talk to him.
"He was going to be fine." I finally whispered.
"What?"
"My dad. He was going to be fine." I shook my head and looked up at the ceiling, "His cancer was going away. Dr Cullen was so positive everything would be fine." I couldn't help but scoff, "Isn't it ironic?" I turned my attention back to Edward and leaned forward.
"What?"
"How the one thing that was supposed to kill him, didn't." I smirked and shook my head, "Fucking heart attack."
I couldn't help but started laugh. It was just too ironic. Who would've thought? "A fucking heart attack!"
Edward nodded, "Yeah."
I quickly stopped laughing and turned to stare at Edward, "Do you want forty thousand dollars?" I blurted out. May as well go to the needy.
Chill out.
That's what he was. Needy. He needed to make sure I was okay. He needed to pretend to care.
"Um…what?"
"My dad's life insurance." I explained, "I don't know what to do with it. He's already paid for his funeral. So I have forty thousand dollars that I don't want."
Edward cleared his throat throat, "I'm sure you can give it to charity or something if you don't want it."
I smiled sweetly, "I thought I was by asking you."
Wow.
He abruptly stood up, holding his hands up, "I'm out, Bella."
I whimpered quietly. That's all everyone seemed to be doing lately. Leaving.
Edward stopped and sighed before returning to me. He put his arm around me and pulled me close. He was so warm. So comforting.
"I just don't know what to do." I admitted quietly.
He kissed the top of my head, "I know." He replied quietly, "I know."
I buried myself into his neck, "I can't do this."
"You can." Edward whispered, "You're not alone, Swan. You have me."
I frowned and pulled away from him, "I do?" Even after the way I acted?
Edward nodded and smiled, "You do. For as long as you need me."
I smiled sadly and leaned my head against his chest, "I suppose I can live with that."
"I'm glad." Edward chuckled.
I closed my eyes, "How has school been?"
"Boring." He answered, playing with my hair, "Really boring."
I smiled, "It always is."
"Emmett seems to think he is still suffering from a hangover."
"From the party?"
"Yeah. He's such a big pansy." Edward chuckled quietly.
"Just like his brother." I whispered.
"I heard that, Swan." He mumbled, amused.
I pulled away from him and gave him a small smile, "I think you were meant to."
Edward's eyes widened, feigning shock, "I'm hurt."
I rolled my eyes, "Please."
He pulled me back against his chest and continued playing with my hair. We stayed like that for ages.
When it was time for him to go, I felt my chest tightening. I'd be alone again. I walked him to the front door and took a deep breath.
I forced a smile and shut the door, quickly locking it.
The silence in this house was deafening.

Step Three: Bargaining

I opened the back door and placed the empty bottles of Bourbon into the glass recycling bin before washing the dishes that I allowed to pile up.
Yesterday, I had managed to allow Edward to take my mind off things. Yesterday, I actually smiled. That was of course, until he had to leave.
I rifled through my father's paperwork I found the other day, stopping short when I spotted an envelope with my name on it.
I frowned, tearing it open. It was a letter.
Breathe.
I took a steady breath and unfolded it.

"Bella…" It read,

"I want you to know that no matter what happens, you'll get through it. You're my kid, so of course you'll get through it.
If you've found this and are now reading it, then you know what's happened.
I'm no longer here to annoy you, or pester you. I'll be enjoying a glass of wine with your mother, incase you're wondering. I know she would be proud of you, much like me.
Just please know that you couldn't have prevented this. You have helped me in so many ways, kid.
Don't dwell on things too much, please. Make something of yourself. Go to college, get married, have kids of your own and tell them about their awesome Grandpa Charlie. I'll be there in spirit through it all.
I love you, kid.

Dad."

I bit down hard on my lip, willing away the tears. "I love you too, dad." I whispered, folding the letter neatly. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. His words were true, yet bothering.
I could have prevented this. I know I could have.
There was nothing anyone could do.
Bullshit.
If I had been accepting of the move to Phoenix, would that have been better? If I had been more attentive, would none of this happened? If I had stayed at the hospital on my birthday, he could still be here.
Stop with the 'what ifs'.

I felt like I was being punished. And it was a cruel cruel punishment.
"What can I do to make you come back?" I whispered, staring at the ceiling, "What the fuck can I do?"