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. I have been told that I should start putting tissue warnings at the beginning of chapters like this, so here it is: TISSUE WARNING. I am also going to start speeding things up in this story. Hope you enjoy.

"Trying hard to reach out, but when I tried to speak out, felt like no one could hear me." – Kelly Clarkson

Chapter 21

BPOV

May 2009

He did it again. The guy mysterious guy on the football field who threatened me, he did it again. He told me that he was watching me. Every move I made, everything that happened in my life, he knew about. I've never been so terrified before. Edward found me seconds after the mysterious guy left. I was completely petrified and it showed. The guy told me that if I even breathe the wrong way, the entire school would know that my foster dad hits me for kicks. I can't let anyone find out, so I do what he says. I keep the fact that I am being stalked and harassed a secret from Edward, from everyone.

I've never been so scared in my life. Nothing Edward did that night made me feel safe again. I hated the fact that he noticed it too, but I can't help it.

Today is Monday and the first day I've seen Edward since the night on the football field. I know I have to act like everything is normal. I have to pretend that everything is okay. I have to act like nothing is wrong in the world and it kills me to do it, but somehow I manage to put a fake smile on my face when Edward pulls into my driveway on this cold Monday morning.

Inside, I can feel myself slowly falling apart. Between writing my paper on behavior and the guy who is tormenting me at Edward's football games, it's becoming harder and harder to keep my wall up from the rest of the world.

The moment I see Edward in my driveway, I rush to embrace him. I need him right now. I need the physical reassurance that someone is here for me that only he can give me. When my body connects with his, all of my worries and troubles fade away. It's only Edward and I in the entire world and that's all that matters.

Eventually, we pull a part and go to school. The entire day, Edward looks like he wants to say something to me about Friday night, but chickens out at the last moment. When he drops me off at my house before he goes to practice, I decide to try and ease his mind a little.

"I'm sorry for freaking you out Friday night. I don't know what came over me. I just couldn't find you in the crowd, that's all." I lie through my teeth. "I'm okay, really I am. You have nothing to worry about." I lightly kiss his cheek and get out of his car. I wave at him as he drives back to the school for his practice.

The rest of the school week passes by without incident. Edward doesn't mention my behavior on the field from Friday, and I don't either. We go about our normal business like normal.

When the school day is over on Friday, Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, Seth, and I all do our normal pre–game meal. If someone had told me a year ago that I would have friends that I had regular plans with now, I would have told them they were insane. But now, I can't imagine my life without these people and these precious moments.

After we get through eating, I ride with Edward back to the school. He drops me off in my usual spot near Rosalie and the rest of the cheerleaders. Tonight's game is against Peach County High School from Fort Valley, Georgia. We are in the second round of the national playoffs, or the Sweet 16 as the players call it.

I am alone for two seconds before I hear Charlie's footsteps beside me. He sits beside me, but I can tell something is off with him. He seems nervous about something, anxious even. I try to ignore it as he makes small talk about football and school with me for a few minutes. Before too long, Charlie takes a deep breath, preparing himself for his next words.

"Bella, I want to tell you about someone who was once very close to me." He pauses and I wait for him to continue. "At the school that I taught at before I came to Forks, I was really close to this student. His name was Robert. He was in my British Literature class in his junior year. I grew very close to him. He wasn't the smartest of students, but he always tried his hardest. I tutored him twice a week for an entire year. He came over to my house on Wednesday nights for dinner. He and my daughter were friends. My wife treated him as if he was her own. He was a part of my family.

"Towards the end of the year, I noticed a change in him. He stopped coming to our tutoring sessions. He stopped coming over for dinner. He avoided all contact with my daughter and wife. He never put any effort into his work anymore. He would come into class with long and heavy clothing, as if he were trying to hide his body. He started to become more and more anti–social. He completely stopped the little interaction he had with people altogether. His social life went from small to nonexistent in the blink of an eye. He avoided all physical contact with people. Every time someone would touch him, he would flinch or lash out at them. He was always angry at everyone. Hell, he was angry at the world.

"On April 27, 2008, my wife, my fourteen – year – old daughter, and I got into a car accident in which we were hit by a drunk driver. A kid, barely nineteen years old, was coming home from a party drunk and ran a stop sign. The crash was on the passenger side of the car. I was the only one on the driver's side. I came out of the crash with a few scrapes and a broken arm. My wife and daughter weren't so lucky. Sue, my wife, hit her head so hard against the dashboard that her skull cracked in two on impact. She died instantly. Leah, my daughter on the other hand, died a slow and painful death. A large shard of glass from the window broke off and sliced her neck up. The cuts weren't deep enough for her to bleed out instantly, but still deep enough to be life threatening. I slowly watched the life drain out of my daughter. She was conscious for a while after the initial accident. I tried to reassure her that she would be okay, but she knew she was going to die. I saw the light fade from my daughter's eyes and with each passing moment, I saw more and more blood trickle out of her neck and onto the ground. I was trapped in my seat, unable to move. By the time the ambulance got to us, she was dead. I watched my daughter die in the most agonizing way.

"I had lost my entire world, in a span of less than ten minutes. I had every reason to be angry and to hate the world, but I didn't. I grieved on my own time and I didn't let it affect my work or my students. So, I began to wonder, what gave Robert the right to be so angry when I wasn't?"

I see a tear roll down Charlie's face. My heart aches for what he has gone through. I don't know how it feels to lose someone I've loved, but I've been through so much pain and suffering that I can imagine it.

I tentatively reach my hand out and lightly place it on Charlie's back in comfort. He doesn't look my way or make any acknowledgement towards my soothing gesture; he's too caught up in his story.

"I threw myself into my school work. I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to grieve for my family. I didn't want to mourn. It was too hard. Instead, I started to become very observant of my surroundings. I started to pick up on things that I wouldn't have normally. I started noticing the patterns in Robert's behavior. I started to notice his flinching at loud sounds. I started to notice how he avoided talking to people. He had completely changed from the boy I tutored twice a week back in August.

"The last week of school, all Robert's anger and rage turned into despair and misery. Every time I saw him, he looked as if he were about to lose it. I started noticing the bruises on his neck. I found out later that they were in the shape of hands, as if he were strangled or choked by someone. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe that he was being abused. I mean, that kind of stuff only happens in movies and really sad books, right?" He looks at me with a sad smile on his face. I can't hold his gaze, so I turn and face the field.

"The last day of school, he came to me after the last bell had rang. He told me how much he was going to miss me. He said I was like a father to him and that he would have wanted to be just like me. He told me how grateful he was for all the effort I put into him. He said that it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him in his entire life. He said that I was the only person in the world who had ever shown any interest in him at all. I didn't understand why he was telling me all of this. It was only summer break, I was going to see him again in a few short months. I don't know if he was only trying to make me feel better because I had just lost my family or what.

"He left me so abruptly, as if he had to do something before he lost his courage. I was so worried about him. I thought about going after him, but thought better of it. Kids have mood swings all the time." He chuckles humorlessly. "A mood swing. I thought Robert was having a mood swing, so I let him leave that afternoon without a second glance.

"I was watching the news later that night when I saw his name pop up on my screen. The news reporter said that they found his car at the bottom of a cliff. A couple of teenage boys saw him drive off of it about thirty minutes after he left me at the school. He committed suicide and I thought he was having a mood swing." Sobs overrun Charlie's body. I quickly wrap my arms around him and hug him as best I can from my awkward angle. A few minutes later he gets a hold of himself and calms down. He puts a hand on my arms and nods. I let go of him and he finishes his story.

"I found out later that he had left a note on my desk when I wasn't looking. In his letter, he explained how throughout his entire life, his parents had neglected him. There were times when he would go without food for days at a time. He never heard the words 'I love you' from either one of his parents. His parents basically ignored his presence. He said the physical abuse didn't start until his dad lost his job in January of his junior year. Robert's dad would come home drunk every night and blame him for losing his job. His mother just sat there and watched. He said that on a good day, his parents would punch him in the gut and send him out the door. On the bad days…" Charlie pauses. "Well, the bruises on his neck came from the bad days.

"He said he never felt wanted until the day he walked into my classroom and I offered to tutor him. He never felt loved or cared for before in his life and then he did. He never had an emotional connection to anyone in his entire life before me.

"His letter said that his parents had always told him harsh things, but that morning, they said some really nasty things before he left for school. They said that everyone would be better off if he would just die already. They said he would be making the world a better place." Charlie scoffs unbelievingly. "Who tells someone that? Who tells a kid that they would be better off dead? How can a mom and dad say that to their child? I can't even comprehend how someone could say that. I don't even understand how Robert could do it. He knew he had me. Despite his home life, he had me. I would have taken care of him. I know I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind because my family had just died, but I could have still helped him. I would have done anything to help him.

"He said that he made the decision to kill himself that day when he got to school. He was fed up of no one caring about him. He was done with hating the entire world for not giving him a better life. He was through with all the pain and suffering of his world. He wanted it to end. He was tired of fighting, so he let go. He gave up and decided to end his life."

I don't know how to react from Charlie's story. I can't imagine what Charlie felt when he got that letter. I don't want to either. Silence falls over us for the first time since the game started. It is minutes before Charlie speaks again and when he does, I can hear the guilt in his voice.

"I moved a week after he killed himself. I couldn't handle being in the town in which I lost my wife, my daughter, and now my student that I came to see as a son. It was all too much for me. I felt so guilty. If I had just stayed with Robert for a few more minutes that day, maybe I could have stopped him from killing himself. If I had just listened to my gut, he could still be here today, but I didn't. He's gone now and no one can do anything about it. I had to get out of that town. I was surrounded by bad memories. I thought I was going to lose it, so I left. I got offered a job here in Forks, exactly 5.2 hours away from my old life. It was far enough to get away from the guilt, yet close enough to remember what my actions and non-actions had caused.

"I was settling in and getting used to my new surroundings when you walked into my classroom. You could hardly walk faster than a snail's pace, yet you made it to class every day on time. It was clear to me that you were hurting in some way. It was like seeing Robert all over again. The signs were all there. The oversized clothes. The lack of a social connection. The bruises on your body that you thought were hidden. I was reliving the nightmare all over again, except this time I wasn't going to let the same thing happen." Charlie looks at me with such pain and determination in his eyes. "I'm going to let the same thing happen again, Isabella." He gives me a knowing look.

I break his gaze. I can't handle the intensity behind his stare. I feel that if I stare in his eyes for too long, Charlie is going to figure out all of my secrets and I just can't have that happen. His story is too much for me. It hits me harder than I expect. Charlie seems to notice my discomfort and eases back on his stare.

"I should probably leave now, Isabella. Remember what I said and know that I am here for you if you ever want to talk about anything. I mean anything."

I swallow thickly and nod my head.

He knows. A little voice in the back of my head says. I shake my head, but my thoughts continue. There's nothing I can talk about with you, Charlie. You wouldn't understand. No one does. The sooner you figure that out, the better it will be for everyone.

I want to say these thoughts aloud, but I don't. I simply watch as Charlie walks away. I stare in the direction he left in until the timer on the scoreboard goes off, signaling the end of the game. I look at the score. We won 36 to 7.

I rush out onto the field along with everyone else. I find Edward quickly and throw my arms around him, eager for the comfort I know he'll provide.

"Hey, I missed you to, Bella." He smiles down at me. He gently pulls me from him. The smile leaves his face as soon as he sees my expression. "Are you okay?" I hear nothing but concern in his words.

I do my best to smile for him. "I'm fine. I just heard a really sad story tonight. That's all."

He nods his head.

We continue to stay on the football field for a few minutes. Edward talks to a couple of people about the game, but I hardly pay any attention. I'm too consumed in my thoughts about Charlie's story. I'm so consumed by my thoughts that I don't even notice when Edward drives me home.

"Bella? Are you okay? You've been in your own little world all night. Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head no. I don't want to worry him about something so inconsequential. Instead, I respond by saying, "I know that I don't say this enough, Edward, but thank you for coming into my life. I don't know what I would do without you."

Edward looks like he wants to say something back, but backs down at the last second. Instead, he captures my lips in a passionate kiss. I can feel all the unsaid words pass between us in this kiss. We both let all our emotions talk in this one kiss. We stay like that for a few minutes, before Edward claims that he has to go. He presses one more kiss to my lips then to my forehead before he leaves.

A week goes by and I find myself avoiding Charlie at all costs. I just don't know how I'm supposed to talk to him now that he knows. Avoiding him goes smoothly until the second to last day of school when Charlie reminds everyone that their research papers are due tomorrow.

I can feel my body tense at the thought of turning in my paper to Charlie. I know I'm going to have to talk to him about it and there is no way that I can get out of it.

**TCWT**

Edward's Elite 8 football game is away, so I am unable to go watch him play. I spend the entire week and weekend trying to figure out how to cope with his absence. I don't know how I do it, but I do. Our football team wins the Elite 8 game and they are now headed to the next round of nationals.

As soon as I get Edward back from one football game, I send him back to another.

For some reason, I can't sleep knowing that I won't see Edward the next day in school. He's off to his final four football game, and won't be back until Sunday night. It's only Friday. So here I am, lying awake at five o'clock in the morning thinking about Edward.

I'm really upset that I can't see Edward play in his final football games. They're all away. I'm almost tempted to ask Charlie if he would consider taking me to the games, but thought better of it. Things between he and I are… tense at best. His story about his wife and daughter and that boy who committed suicide is too much for me. It hits just a little too close to home. I don't like the fact that he knows that something is going on in my home life. If he ever got proof or told anyone else about it, Phil would kill me for sure. I just can't have people knowing. I just can't.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Phil walks into my room with a sinister grin on his face. "Get your ass in the kitchen, girl. You're mother wants to talk to you." I unconsciously flinch at the thought of Renee being called my mother, but I do what he says in an effort not to anger him. Renee is not my mother. My mother left me for dead in the fire that burned down my house.

I don't even know what a real mother is. My foster mom stands by and taunts me while her husband gets his rocks off by kicking and hitting me. My birth mom left me to die in a house fire when I was young, so she's not any better than Renee is.

My walk down to the kitchen is swift. Renee is sitting down at the kitchen table that we never use. "Phil and I are taking a vacation for our anniversary. We are leaving in two days. We will return on June 14. This house better be fucking shining by the time we get back."

She reaches in her purse and pulls out one twenty dollar bill and one ten dollar bill. "This is for food and it has to last you until we get back."

I don't say anything. I don't even move. They're giving me thirty dollars for food! I've never held that much money before in my entire life! I don't show any emotion on my face despite the giddiness I am feeling inside. This must have upset Phil because the next thing I know, my face is being slammed down on the kitchen table.

"Why don't you show your mother a little gratitude, you ungrateful bitch?"

He slams my face against the table once more. I can feel blood trickling out of my nose and mouth. The entire right side of my face is numb. I can't feel anything anymore as he continues his assault.

Eventually, he lets up. I take the money that Renee put on the table, nod my head in a 'thank you', and rush upstairs to the bathroom.

Looking at the damage that Phil has done to my face, I quickly come to the conclusion that I can't go out in public looking like this. The right side of my face is bruised and swollen. There's no way people wouldn't suspect something. I also don't want Edward to see me like this. I'm already ugly enough, there's no need to make me look even more like the ugly duckling.

Can I use some of Renee's makeup to cover this up? No. I ended up with a few broken ribs and a busted lip last time I tried to go down that route.

I think for a few more minutes before I remember the makeup that Edward got me for Christmas. I have been slowly wearing some of the outfits that Edward got me for Christmas so Phil and Renee don't get suspicious as to where my new clothes are coming from.

I make my way to my closet and get out the bag of presents from Edward. I quickly find the makeup and rush back to the bathroom before Phil or Renee finds me with it. I quickly put it on, just enough to cover the new bruises, and make my way outside to catch the bus.

The school day drags on and on. I'm in hell with Edward not being by my side. When I get to Charlie's class, I slide into my seat in the back and pull out my research paper. This is the day that we have to turn it in. I'm extremely apprehensive in turning in my paper. Between all the stories about Charlie's old life and all the articles I have read about behavior and abuse victims, I am one hundred percent positive that Charlie knows that something is wrong with my home life. Choosing this particular topic for me was just his way of telling me that he knows.

Class goes by quickly, but all I can do is look over my paper.

Emotional abuse is just as bad as physical abuse. Worse! You can heal broken bones; you can't heal a broken mind.

Even though an abuse child may escape their abuser, the feelings do not leave them. They are often ashamed of their past. They continue to let their abuser control them by constantly putting them down.

Trauma leaves 'fingerprints' on the victim. These don't fade like the bruises do.

Everything in this paper makes me feel like I'm reading my own biography. It describes my life to a T.

Did Charlie really give me this topic for him or did he do it for me? He knows. For the first time in my entire life, someone knows that something is up with how I get treated at home.

I feel my body go rigid as the final bell rings. I know I have to talk to him about it. I can't have him saying anything to anyone else. It's too much of a risk.

I wait for everyone else to leave the classroom so it's only Charlie and me. I slowly walk up to his desk, not wanting to have this conversation.

"Isabella, it's nice to see you. Are you ready to turn in your paper? I'm really looking forward to reading it." Charlie says sweetly, as if he doesn't know how close this paper is to my heart. As if our last conversation at the football game about Robert never happened.

I take a deep breath and brace myself for what I am about to do. "Why did you give me this topic? The truth this time please."

Charlie's eyes go wide as soon as he hears my voice. "Isabella, I –"

"Was this just some kind of cruel joke? Having me read all these articles? Were you trying to get me to do something, Charlie? Because it won't work. Whatever you thought this paper would do to me, it didn't." I can't help the hurt that is in my voice. I loved this class all semester; it was my favorite. If he was just screwing with me this entire time, I don't know what I'd do.

"Isabella, that's not it at all. I gave you this topic because I need closure and I think you need help. I didn't want to do anything without you knowing or your consent first. I owe you that much." He says calmly.

What does he mean 'do anything without my consent'? Was he going to report 'it?' He doesn't even know exactly what 'it' is.

Slight anxiety falls over me. Part of me wants to tell him everything, but the other part, the rational part of me, knows that no one would believe him if he tried. Charlie makes me feel so safe when I'm around him because of things like this. He acts as if he genuinely wants to help me.

How can he make me feel like this? How can he make me feel cared for like a father is supposed to care for his daughter?

With another deep breath, I say what I've been needing to say these past few weeks.

"I know why you gave me the topic, Charlie. I know what you want me to tell you, but I can't. All you need to know is that I'm fine. I'm not Robert. I'm not going to kill myself just because I have a sucky home life. You don't have to worry about me."

He visibly takes in a deep breath. "Isabella, I never thought you would. You're too strong for that. I see that now. I still don't regret giving you this topic. I needed the closure and you needed to know that you aren't alone. I'm here for you, Isabella. Edward is here for you. You just have to trust us enough to help you."

"I can't tell you how much that meant to me, Charlie. Over this semester, you've helped me not only in literature, but as a person. I do trust you. You've proved that you care time and time again. I can't thank you enough for that. Now, I realize that in the beginning you were only trying to get me to talk to you about 'it,' but I wasn't ready then. I'm not ready now if I am honest. I hope that you know that now. Know that I'm trying and I hear what you're saying," I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the biggest lie I've ever told, "but there is nothing you need to worry about."

I don't give him a chance to respond before I start to head out the door. If I stay any longer, I'm going to start revealing things I shouldn't. When I get to the door, I pause. I turn around to find Charlie staring at me. An overwhelming sense of thankfulness for all the effort he put into trying to help me washes over me.

"Oh, and Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"Call me Bella."

"Okay. Goodbye Bella. I will see you next year." And with that, I start summer vacation.

A/N: What did ya'll think? Leave your opinions in a review! All the quotes from Bella's paper about trauma and abuse that are in italics, are not mine. No copyright is intended. All rights go to their respective owners.