A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed/favorited/followed! All mistakes are mine. I hope ya'll like this chapter! Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

"It's amazing how you can speak right from my heart without saying a word you can light up the dark. Try as I may I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing…" – Alison Kraus

Chapter 19

BPOV

February 2009

I wait for everyone else to leave Mr. Masen's class before I walk up to him. He hasn't said anything about me missing his class the other day. He hasn't said anything about my topic for the paper either. Because I ditched the day that we were supposed to choose our topics, Mr. Masen now gets to choose my topic for me. I hope it will be something interesting. I nervously walk up to his desk and wait for him to acknowledge me. He looks up at me after a few minutes.

"Isabella, it's nice to see you. What can I do for you today?" He asks kindly.

I smile at him and grab a pen and paper from his desk. I was wondering if I you had picked my paper topic picked out already.

I see his eyes quickly read over my paper and set it down. I expect him to tell me my topic next, but what I hear instead surprises me.

"Why don't you speak to people, Isabella?"

My breathing hitches. How am I supposed to answer that?

"I have theory about you, Bella. Would you like to hear it?"

I don't know how to respond to that, so I just wait for him to speak once more.

"I've been teaching for the better part of ten years now, Bella. I've seen everything in students. I've seen students who find themselves during high school. I've seen students crack under the pressure of high school. I've seen students who have parents that try to live vicariously through them. I've seen students whose parents push them incredibly hard in school. I've seen students who have been beat because of their actions in school."

He pauses there for a minute. I don't look at him. I can't. I don't want him to see the pain in my eyes.

"My point is I have seen everything in school. Hardly anything surprises me anymore. Throughout my years of teaching, I have become very good at reading students and knowing what their intentions and actions are or will be. All these years of feeling like I know everything, and then I see you walking into my class last month. You sat where no one can talk to you. You don't try to socialize with anyone in here. In the group assignments, you choose to do all the work alone instead of working with others to make everything easier. Now normally, I would chalk all this up to the fact that you don't care about school or how you do in it, but that isn't the case now is it?" I slowly shake my head, unaware of where this was going. "I've read your papers, your short assignments, your letter and everything points to the fact that you want to exceed in school.

"I have never seen you actually speak to a single person in this school. You are always around that Cullen boy, though. So, I start thinking to myself, what is a girl who doesn't talk to anyone at all, the girls who seems to be a social outcast at this school, doing with the star of the football team? You're not related, but you two are close. I can see by the way you two are when you are together." He smiles sadly at me. "My theory is you are afraid of people. You're afraid of what people will think of you if you open up to them. You're afraid of getting your hopes up because you don't want to be let down. You've been burned too many times in the past to let yourself live any more.

My eyes go wide. How can he know all of that? It's as if my life story is written on my forehead in bold letters.

I reach for the paper and pen again, anger and sadness that he can read me so well, running through me. What is your point in telling me all of this? Are you just saying all of this to make me feel bad about myself? Do you want to tell everyone your little theory and humiliate me?

I can feel angry tears prick the back of my eyes as I shove the paper over to him.

He scans it quickly and looks back up at me. His face softens immediately when he's sees my face. "Isabella, it was never my intention to make you upset. As a teacher, I am merely curious about the way you seem to act. I've never seen a student go from completely isolating herself in a room full of her peers straight to in the arms of a boy waiting outside my classroom. I've never heard teachers talk about this bright and amazing student that only shows that there is a spark of life in her, through her school work. This brings me to your research paper topic." He searches through papers and papers on his desk before he seems to find the right one. He hands it to me and I glance down at it before he starts talking again. "I'll sum it up the best I can for you right now. I know Edward is waiting on you."

Edward! I completely forgot that he was waiting on me. I whip my head around and see Edward peeking through the door window with a worried expression on his face. I give him a small smile in hopes that he doesn't try to break down the door to make sure I'm alright. I turn back to Mr. Masen and wait for him to finish explaining my topic.

"Basically, I want you to tell me about people and why they act differently when they are around their peers or friends or parents or teachers. That's your topic Isabella. I want you to write your paper about people's actions and motivations. Why do we act the way we do? Why is it human nature to keep secrets? I want you to tell me about why we respond to people differently. Tell me about how we act differently and why we do it."

I nod my head and stuff the topic in my backpack. Why is he giving me this topic? Why me?

"I am looking forward to it, Ms. Swan." He says as I am about to walk out the door. I don't say anything. I just turn my head around so he knows that I heard him.

I walk out to find Edward and I instantly throw myself in his arms.

"Are you okay, Bella?"

I don't answer verbally. I just pull him closer to me. He responds by kissing my forehead and softly stroking my hair. We stay like this for a long time until Edward says he has to go to practice.

Not one word about Alice or the accident passes between us.

Friday comes quicker than ever and before I realize it, I am exiting Mr. Masen's class to find Edward. Today, we are going to Port Angeles to eat before their game tonight. I quickly grab Edward's hand and we make head straight to Emmett's jeep. The rest of our friends are there waiting for us. Everyone except Jacob that is.

Jacob has started to become really distant with everyone lately. He stopped eating lunch with us and now he hardly talks to the guys during football practice, that is on the days he actually shows up for practice. I asked Edward about and he just shrugged it off. He doesn't seem to care about Jacob's whereabouts these days.

The entire time we were with our friends, Edward and I were always touching in some way. If we weren't holding hands, then Edward would have his hand on the small of my back. If we were sitting down, then his hand would find its way to the inside of my knee. It is oddly reassuring and comforting having a part of him with me at all times.

All too soon, we had to head back to the school so the boys could get ready for their game. As per usual, I head with Rose to the stands and wait for the game to start.

Halfway through the game, I hear a voice from behind me.

"Is that seat taken?"

It is Mr. Masen. What is he doing here? I haven't tried to talk to him about my paper or at all since Monday.

Realizing he is still waiting for an answer, I gesture to the seat next to me.

"Thank you." He pauses for a moment. He looks like he wants to say something then changes his mind. "This is actually my first football game since moving here. Is our team any good?"

I smile at his attempt at a conversation. Despite his odd behavior on Monday, I still think Mr. Masen is a really cool teacher. I nod my head enthusiastically in response to his question.

"I guess they'd have to be with your boyfriend leading them." He gives me a knowing smile.

I can feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I know that Edward is my boyfriend, but having other people, especially a teacher, saying that he's mine is still so surreal to me.

He chuckles when he notices my blush. "I actually didn't come over here to ask about football… I came to apologize for how I acted in class the other day when I gave you your research paper topic. I didn't mean to be so intense. The subject matter is… well for a lack of better words, it's really close to me."

I stare at him, understanding written all over my face. I reach in my pocket and pull out a piece of paper and pen. I get it. Sometimes it's hard to talk about things so close to us. You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Masen. You don't have to explain your actions in class to me.

He smiles at my response. "That's very kind of you, but I do still want to give you an explanation. This past year has been very hard on me. I lost a student of mine that I was close to, to suicide. About a month before, I lost my wife, Sue and my daughter, Emily to a car accident. I was in the car and survived, but they didn't. I lost every family I had in a matter of a few weeks. One was to his behavior and the other was to the behaviors of the people around them. I stay up at night wondering about what would drive someone to commit suicide or why a group of underage high school students would drink and drive. I know my opinions on the subject matter. I know the facts that I have gathered, but I want to hear someone else's for once. That's why I gave you the topic I did. I want to hear your opinions on people's actions. I want to know your facts that you find."

I grab the paper back from his hand. I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Masen. I know how hard everything must be on you right now. I can't even imagine how much pain you must be in right now, but you don't have to go through it alone. There are people all around you who can help you through your pain.

I slide the paper into his hand when I am finished. He reads it quickly. "Your words are very kind, Isabella. I didn't mean to bore you with my back story tonight. I only wanted to explain myself. I hope you have a wonderful rest of the weekend and I will see you in class on Monday." And just like that, his entire demeanor changes from somber to the perky teacher I have always seen him to be. He walks to the stairs before turning back to me. "Call me Charlie, Isabella."

I smile and nod my head. He walks off of the bleachers and I am alone once more.

I find Edward after the game without running into the creepy guy from the last game. I have, thankfully, not had any interactions with him since he found me last week.

**TCWT**

When Edward picks me up for school on Monday, I ask him if we can go to the library so I can work on my research paper. He complies and I spend over an hour reading articles about people's motivations. I wrote a few key points down that I intend on using for my thesis.

My eyes scan over the articles. Every word describes me perfectly.

Your feeling of control over situations may be disturbed if someone evaluates the circumstances differently from you, and particularly if they enforce their understanding upon you, saying what you should or must do or not do. A criticism of what you have done or of your capability, may equally cause disturbance. Accompanying these factors are the decisions that have been made in the face of stressful situations and anxiety, and that have become fixed ideas and serve as defense mechanisms, to keep you safe from the same situations possibly occurring again. It is emotional pain, or the threat of such pain, which holds such distorted ideas in place, even when they are no longer rational.

Based on what Charlie told me about his wife and daughter and the student he was close to, I also looked up articles about why people blame themselves after something tragic happens and I found this.

Individuals, who react to trauma with a sense of self-blame, feel that they are responsible for the negative events that occurred in their lives. A misguided sense of power over uncontrollable events has strong demoralizing and self-defeating consequences. Furthermore, self-blame is linked with more distress, anxiety, depression, harsh self-criticism, low self-worth and poorer recovery from trauma. Self-blame is in fact an additional and internal trauma that individuals, who survived the unimaginable, inflict upon themselves. The survivor keeps thinking about the event and what he or she could have said and done differently. The individual feels responsible for what he or she did not feel/do or guilt for what he or she did feel/do. The images keep re-occurring in the individual's mind and dreams. A re-enactment is an attempt to replay the situation and make it more acceptable. In the hope to relieve the burden and the self-blame, one remains stuck with the images, a fact that also causes a degree of psychological incapacity.

Reading through all these articles make my heart constrict not only for Charlie, but for myself. Some of what these articles are saying apply to my life. I feel like they are talking about me.

I feel my hands start to shake as I continue to read the articles. I try to control it before Edward notices, but I can't. My body is soon overrun with tearless sobs. I find myself wrapped in Edward's arms. He doesn't say a word. He just gives me the comfort I need until I can control myself again. I feel him press his lips against my hair as I pull back from his embrace. He brushes my hair out of my face and looks directly into my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Concern laces his voice.

"No." I answer truthfully. "But I will be."

"I'm here for you."

"I know."

March 2009

Week after week goes by and with every passing day, I grow closer to Edward and Charlie. Edward has become my light at the end of the tunnel. My feelings for him grow stronger every day. I can't even explain how he makes me feel, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I have never felt so happy in my entire life. He makes me feel special and cared for. Sometimes it seems too surreal that he is in my life as more than just a friend.

And then there is Charlie. Over the past few weeks, I have been spending more and more time with him. Whether it is staying a few minutes later at the end of class or sitting with him during Edward's football games, Charlie has become a constant figure in my life. He is such a bright and happy person, despite what he has been through in this past year. He never lets any of the bad things that have happened to him affect his life now. By hanging out with him, I am starting to realize how I should act. Just because my life is complete shit, that doesn't mean that I should let it affect me when I am around my friends, Edward and Charlie. If Charlie can be strong with his life then so can I. I want to be just like him. He's become such an amazing role model to me.

Every Friday night, Charlie and I sit and talk, well he talks and I write. He tells me stories about his family and his old life. He tells me stories about when he was a kid. He tells me about the first time he fell in love. He tells me about all the things that a father would normally tell his daughter. I can literally feel the love and admiration Charlie had for his daughter. It's an amazing feeling, one I have never felt before. This is how a father is supposed to talk about and feel about their daughter. This is how they are supposed to talk about them. This is what I've been missing my entire life.

The third Friday in March is a bye week for football. My foster parents are completely oblivious to my whereabouts all that night, so I spend it at Edward's house, in his room, on his bed.

I spend hours scanning through article after article for my research paper. I read everything that I can in an effort to be able to write the perfect essay for Charlie. I haven't had any more break downs when reading the articles either. Part of me is slightly apprehensive about why he gave me this topic still, but the other part of me believes Charlie's story about his family dying.

I feel a dip in the bed before I hear Edward whispering in my ear.

"Are you ready to be done for the night? I'm bored." He whines.

I smile at his playfulness. "I'm almost finished. Some of this stuff is really interesting. Did you know that something as simple as a person's diet can affect how they act around people?"

"Nope, can't say that I did. Now can you be finished?" His hands slowly make their way to under my shirt. His touch is so light that would hardly be able to feel it except for the trail of fire he leaves on my skin with each touch.

I unconsciously stop reading the articles on the computer and lean in to his touch. His lips start leaving a trail of kisses on my shoulder then to my neck. I let at a strangled moan and before I have the chance to be embarrassed, Edward spins me around and places me on his lap, making the laptop fall to the floor. The moment his lips touch mine again, I know I'm done for. There is just something about the way his lips mold perfectly with mine that makes me go crazy. When his lips force mine apart with his tongue, I comply. The taste of his mouth against mine is my favorite thing in the entire world.

Edward rolls us over so that he is on top of me now. He lightly nudges my legs apart with his knee. He lets his body fall on top of mine. Every crook and crevice of his, molds perfectly in line with mine. This is the first time I have felt Edward's entire body wrapped completely with mine, and I've never felt anything better.

As our bodies move together in tandem, I start to feel something start to poke against my stomach. I don't know what it is, but it's completely hard and rocking in the most delicious way against me. Curious as to what it is, I lightly pushed Edward off of me to look.

"What's wrong?" Edward asks, completely out of breath.

"Nothing, I just felt something poking me and I wanted to know what it is." I start to push Edward's body off of mine before he stops me. "What?"

"Bella, I uh, don't know how else to say this so I am just going to put it bluntly." His face is completely red right now, and I have no idea why. "It's my dick, Bella. My dick is hard…" His face becomes impossibly redder and I am positive that mine mirrors his.

"Oh, um…" I try to hide my face in embarrassment. Of course it was his dick. I have heard about guys getting hard, but I've never actually felt one before. I feel like an idiot now and he probably thinks so too.

"Hey, Bella, if it bothers you we can stop or I can make sure you can't feel it again, if you want."

Is that what I want? No. I love the feeling of him being so close to me. I love the feeling of all of him on me.

I pull his body back on top of mine. "No, I like the way it feels against me." His face breaks out in a giant grin and his lips latch on to mine once more.

Our kisses become heavier and heavier. Edward's hands slowly roam back up my body, bringing my shirt along with it. Feeling bold, I reach for the buttons on his shirt and start undoing them. I get all the way to the last one before Edward helps me. He lifts up off of me for a split second and slides his shirt off his shoulders and down his back.

I stare in awe of his body. There isn't an ounce of fat on his body. His abs are clearly defined. His skin is pale and smooth. He's completely beautiful. I subconsciously start to bite my lip.

"See something you like?" Edward asks cockily, yet playfully.

I smile and nod my head. I lift myself off of the bed and bring my body to his. We both moan at the feeling of our bare chests colliding. It's got to be one of the best feelings of the world.

Edward's hands come up to massage my breasts. His hands are big and calloused from years of playing football, yet filled with pleasure. His hands gently knead my breasts. He brings his thumb and forefinger to pinch my nipple and I moan very loudly at the action.

Holy shit that felt good.

Eventually, I start to slowly push Edward on his back so I am on top of him. His hands find my ass and starts to show it the same attention he was paying to my breasts. Kneading it slowly then pinching it lightly. His hands eventually make their way to the front of my jeans and in between my legs.

"Fuck, Bella, I can feel your heat from the outside of your jeans. You're so hot. Am I doing this to you? Is this what my touch does to you, baby?"

I could only moan in response. My head is spinning. I can't think of anything except for the fact that Edward was touching me in my most sensitive of spots. His fingers start moving in slow circles. I writhe against him. I arch into his hand, forcing more pressure against the crotch of my jeans.

"Does this feel good?"

I let out a breathy "yes" in response. His movements keep getting faster and faster. I feel something start to coil in my stomach. I've never felt anything like it, but it feels amazing. I feel like I am about to explode. A few minutes of Edward's circling combined with his lips sucking on my neck, I finally explode.

It felt like nothing I had ever experienced before. It felt like I could fly. I swear I saw stars everywhere. The feeling didn't last nearly as long as I would've like it to. When I came down from my high, I saw Edward staring at me intently.

Realizing what he just did to me, my face turns red and I bury my head into his chest in embarrassment.

"Don't be shy, Bella. Don't hide from me." He slowly brings my face up to his. He kisses me on the lips and all my embarrassment fades away with one look. I feel completely comfortable around him, emotionally and physically.

"You should probably go get cleaned up. The bathroom is through that door right over there. I'll get you some clothes to wear too. I'll take you home as soon as you get cleaned up." With a peck on my forehead, I head to the bathroom.

A/N: Thoughts? The italicized articles that Bella wrote down are not mine. I got them from several different websites. I do not own them, nor am I copywriting them. All rights go to their respective owners.