My head hurts. No- it fucking pounds. My brain is beating against the confines of my skull and I wish it would stop.

I roll over, stare at the door. The white paint hurts my eyes. I close them again, stretching over the side of the bed. Cold glass reaches up to me, lifts me out of the heated blankets embrace. I bring it to my lips, swigging dregs. The taste sours in my mouth.

What's the time? The alarm clock screams seven in flashing red at me. Time to go make breakfast, I guess.

"That's it, Bella! I'm sending you home."

I stare at Charlie in shock. Did...did he know? I had been so careful to hide it, what little of it there was left for him to see. Buying my own, putting the bottles in someone else's recycling, drinking only when he's away or asleep. I never mention it, never get caught, only drink enough to keep a buzz- except for when it's too much.

Too much happens too often. Whenever I look at my CD player, where his disc once spun so often, it's too much. I take a swig. Whenever I look at the window where he would climb in, it's too much. I take a swig. Whenever I look at the rocking chair, where he would sit and hold me, it's too much. I take a swig. His parking spot - swig - silver cars - swig - his seats in my classes - swig - pianos - swig -

I lift a glass of milk up to my lips. Too much. Charlie watches me, gauging my reaction.

"You never do anything."

So...he doesn't know? Good. But how am I supposed to go out, do things, when everywhere just reminds me of him? My minds rushing now, trying to figure out if I should give in and leave, or stay in the hopes that he'd come back.

"You're just...lifeless, Bella."

I turn my hands over on the table. I'm still moving, breathing, eating, sleeping. Is there anything left to life anymore? What is left? But- I know what he means. I am only surviving, holding on to damaging 'coping mechanisms' that are hurting me, not healing me. I glare at the space atop the fridge.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

And I am, honest. I wanted to be something better, something more. I could have been smart, successful, something. Instead, I am the faded jeans, a washed up daughter that's more failure than fight. I am nothing.

I need another drink.

"I don't want you to apologize."

A foreign flame of fire lights in my stomach. What am I supposed to do then? Your Bella is gone, she's dead, she died in those woods. I don't know who I am, but I'm not her, and I can't pretend, not even for you. Even if I dropped the drink, went out and did something with my life, it wouldn't be worth it. Not...not without him.

"Then tell me what you want me to do."

Classic me. Be a zombie. Take instructions. Do as you're told. Don't make a fuss. Don't be an individual. I smirk, thinking about how perfect I would have been at the beginning of the industrial revolution, the exact person an employer would want. Here's what you do, now do it. Poke that button. Sort these products. Count this batch.

I shake my head. My train of thought is chugging away from where it needs to be. Industrial revolution, where did I even get that from? I need to top up the vodka in my bottle if I'm remembering my history lessons.

"I want you to be happy- no, not even that much. I just want you not to be miserable. I think you'll have a better chance if you get out of Forks."

My mind races. Do I stay, just in case he comes back? Says he wants me? Needs me? Or do I try this time, do I leave? Not look back? Go running back home to my mommy, crying about a boy she barely knew?

Charlie watches me as I try to come up with an excuse to stay.

School? You'll do fine.

Getting in the way? She'll be happy to have you back.

Florida's too hot?

"It's been months. You can't keep waiting for him."

The words chip at the walls I'd built. I swallow down the breakfast threatening to come up. Yes I can yes I can yes I ca-

"You're right"

What? Did...did I really just agree? I pinch my thigh under the table, hissing as I strike half-healed scars. I'd nearly forgotten about that.

He seems...relieved. Maybe...maybe this is the right thing to do. I have to get over him some time. Yea, I can't wait forever. He left me. Fuck him.

Thinking that nearly makes me cry.

"I'll help you pack. I've already organized it with Renee, so you can road trip, take your time to think it over on the highways."

My eyes nearly bulge out my head. That hurts...I have to take some aspirin later.

"That's like...a 50 hour trip," I gasp.

"We trust you. Anyway, I want you to keep the truck, and you really do need the time."

I'm too shocked to do anything but stare. He smiles weakly at me, before draining his coffee and standing.

"Make sure to get all your school stuff sorted, say goodbye to your friends and all. I'll get you some money to take care of gas and food and stuff."

He rests a hand on my shoulder, looks down lovingly at me.

"I'm proud of you, sweetheart."

Introducing Industrial Bella 2000. Dances when told. Sings when told. Runs when told. And takes a swig when her daddy leaves, before she goes off to do as she's told.

And she needs more alcohol.