Hello, friends!

I was without internet access for a lot of today, which meant that I had a lot of time to write without interruptions. So I'll probably be able to update a few times tonight it all goes well.

Enjoy the chapter.

I read the letter at least ten times before Charlie gets home. When he walks in the house he says a quick hello but pauses when I don't reply. I just look at him, the letter gripped in my hand. He walks over and sits down next to me, his eyebrows pulling together in concern.

"What's that?" he asks.

"It's from mom," I say, and my voice is scratchy.

He reads it over and when he's done, he hands it back to me without saying anything. We both sit in silence for a long moment, and I imagine that mom's words hurt my dad a lot, even though it was something he always knew.

"Are you going to reply?" he finally asks.

"I don't know."

I go up to my room and read the letter one more time. I set it on my bedside table and curl up under the covers, guilt eating away at my stomach. I felt awful. I ruined everything. I've let this whole situation control my life. I let my mother ruin the way I look at relationships and I've taken my anger out on everyone around me.

I bury my face in my pillow and start to cry yet again.

What have I done?

~O~

Have you ever felt so shitty that you literally have no interest in doing anything? Like even the idea of changing out of your sweatpants and taking a quick shower sounds like too much effort so you just keep your hair in a ponytail and keep your old ratty sweatpants on?

Have you ever just hated yourself so much that you don't want to eat, that you don't want to drink, you don't even want to move? All you want to do is lay in bed and wish that everything in your life has all been a miserable awful nightmare and that when you wake up, everything will be okay?

That's how I felt. I had no interest in anything anymore. I didn't want to go to school. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to sleep. I just want to be left alone to wallow in my own misery.

Unfortunately, Jasper and my dad refuse to let me do that.

"Get out of bed, Bella," Jasper says as he barges into my room. "You've already missed three days of school, and I honestly don't know how you got the chief to let you do that."

I roll over to face him. "I don't understand either, but he's leaving me room. Please do the same."

"This is ridiculous," he mutters before he walks over and rips the covers off of my bed. "I don't understand why you're sulking. I get that the letter threw you off, but jeeze, Bella. This is getting obnoxious."

I glare at him and pull the covers back over me, but I sit up. "I'm just tired, Jasper. Leave me alone. I'll be fine."

"I'm saying this because I love you, Bella," he says before he takes a deep breath. "Get the fuck over yourself."

I stare at him in astonishment. He's never spoken to me like that before, and I don't know how to react.

"Excuse me?"

"I've always just kind of accepted the way you are because I understood why you were so bitter, but that letter should have sparked a positive change in you!" he exclaims. "But instead, you're letting it eat at you. And you're dwelling on your failed relationship with Edward, but you never even gave the fucking thing a chance to go anywhere. You were so busy trying to fix him that you don't realize that you fucked up too.

"You're constantly trying to fix other situations, but you're completely forgetting to fix everything that's fucked up in your own life!"

I glare at him. "I thought you were on my side!"

"I'm always going to be on your side, Bells! But sometimes, being on someone's side means getting behind them and kicking their ass when they get stuck in a rut. And you've been stuck in a rut since you were a kid," he says. "And I just…you need to work on you."

I don't know what to say. I feel like I'm frozen in my spot as I stare into Jasper's eyes. He's knows me better than I know myself, but right now, I feel like I've just been stabbed in the gut by my best friend.

"I've gotta go," he says. "I'll see you in school tomorrow."

He walks out of my bedroom and I hear him mutter a "hello, chief" before his footsteps descend the stairs.

My dad comes and stands in my doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

"How much of that did you hear?" I ask, not meeting his eyes.

"Enough," he replies as he walks towards my bed. He sits down on the edge, and I remember the last time Charlie came into my room and sat on my bed and my stomach rolls.

"Do you know why I've let you miss so much school?" he asks quietly.

I look at him and shake my head.

"Because it's my fault."

I bark out a laugh, and it sounds hard and bitter. "None of this is your fault."

"But it is my fault. When you're mom left," he begins to explain, "I had hoped that you would be young enough that it wouldn't change you too much. But after you found that needle, I knew you would put everything together. I saw you start to close yourself off from everyone.

"I thought you were getting better for a while. But when you're mother started to call, something shifted. I realized nothing had changed, that you hadn't gotten any better." He looks down and picks at his sleeve. "You've always been a self-sustaining person. You never needed help with anything, and I thought that this would be the same. I figured letting you take a few days off of school would make things better, but it hasn't."

"What are you trying to say, dad?"

He looks at me, and I'm shocked when I see tears in his eyes.

"I'm saying that this is my fault because I should have gotten you help as soon as she left," he says. "I should have gotten you into a therapist so you would understand that it was your mom who was messed up. But instead, I let you be bitter and angry with everyone, and it is all my fault."

For the second time today, I'm frozen in my seat.

"I want to fix this, Bella."

"I don't think I can be fixed, dad," I say. "I have no idea where to start."

"You aren't broken, Bella," he whispers. "You just need to change your perspective. And as for where to start…"

He stands up and walks over to my desk where there's a notebook and a pen. He hands them to me and then places my mother's note next to it.

"Write her back," he instructs. "Tell her everything. Explain how you feel. I think it could do a world of good to get that out there."

I crack a smile for the first time in days. "When did you become a life coach?"

Charlie coughs and starts walking towards the door. "Being the police chief of a thriving metropolis like Forks teaches you a few things."

So the next few chapters are going to be jumping around a bit. It'll be an interesting ride.

Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Lots of love,

Emilia Elliot