A/N: I own no part of Twilight. Sydney proofread this (if not, I would have gotten away with misspelling "Christmas"). This chapter goes back to Bella. If you're familiar with some old works of mine, you might catch some shoutouts to Remedium and Destructive Desire. I've written so much that I'm allowed to reference myself. Let me live.

I enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

XVIII.

you say you're going through changes
everyday it seems your life is up and down

The following Tuesday after Leah's birthday, Bella landed in Port Angeles once again. She didn't have any nail polish to pick at, and she didn't expect any bliss to come from her cell phone. She didn't even touch the ring on the necklace rubbing against her chest.

Charlie picked her up, having forgiven her for running off last August. He was easygoing, but still concerned. He knew she had been going through changes for the past couple of years. He knew his nineteen-year-old daughter was sick and had trouble being consistent. It was ugly and embarrassing, but he knew. He didn't know about her other habits, but that didn't matter. Those habits wouldn't draw sympathy.

Even though she came alive in the summer, she preferred autumn and winter. In Forks, winter never ended, and she was able to hide behind thick sweaters and thicker hair. She didn't want the sun or anybody else to see her when her scars were this ugly. And everybody had tired eyes in the winter; she wouldn't be the only one this time. She could blend in because melancholia was the way of life around here, and it was year-long.

The car ride from Port Angeles to Forks was especially long now. Charlie wasn't a coward, so he filled the silence with heavy conversation.

"What was wrong with Phoenix?" he asked.

Her voice was bleak. She couldn't pretend anymore. "Nothing. Why?"

"I just don't see why you'd come back to Forks is all." He had never liked to beat around the bush when the matter was serious. All his awkwardness was nonexistent now.

She could hardly put up a fight. "Why's that?"

"I thought you hated it here," he explained. "You only went to work and saw Ed—" He stopped himself, but it was far too late. "You know who. You didn't do much else. I didn't think you'd like it here enough to come back."

I don't like Forks at all, she wanted to say. I just hate Phoenix. She had spent all her time in Arizona with her old friends, but there was no use in seeking comfort in people who had homes, who had somewhere to be and knew where they belonged. They had no comfort to offer to someone as misguided as Bella. And with Renee and Phil moving to Florida soon, Bella just couldn't do it. She couldn't force herself to start fresh and forget, as easy as it could possibly be for someone as lost as her. She hated Forks, but she didn't want to be anywhere else, and that was what was going to kill her in the end.

"Mom's moving to Florida," she told Charlie. "I don't wanna go."

"She told me," he replied. "I just... I thought you'd like Florida. Thought you'd appreciate the sun."

She actually would appreciate the sun, but she knew that if she moved to Florida, she'd be trapped. She couldn't run off to Forks as easily when things got tough, and lately, Forks had turned into a beacon for her.

"I guess I just got used to Forks," she told him.

He sighed. "Don't we all."

"Mom, you don't have to throw me a party," Leah said. As she helped Sue carry bags and bags of food into the house from the car, though, she knew it was far too late.

"It's my only day off in a while," Sue said for the hundredth time today, Tuesday. "And my baby turned nineteen. It's my day, too."

Leah rolled her eyes. It's my day, too. She said that every year. Leah followed her mother into the house.

"Who's coming tonight?" she asked.

Sue went into the kitchen. "All your friends, and I think your Auntie Aria and Junior. Oh, and Charlie Swan."

Leah sighed. Sue never got many days off, but when she did, she was always at Charlie Swan's house. She didn't know what her mother saw in him. He was a nice person and all, but since Harry's death, Sue spent more time with Charlie than she did with her own kids. Leah had never said anything about it before, but it was slowly and surely killing her now.

"You're always with Charlie," Leah said, trying to keep her tone from sounding accusing.

"And?"

"Are you guys dating or something?"

Sue laughed. "Child, no. But he is kinda cute, isn't he?"

Leah frowned. "Next month will be two years since Dad died."

Sue's face fell serious. "What, you think I forgot or something?"

Leah shrugged.

"Me and Charlie have nothing going on," Sue said. "And even if we did, it's none of your business, anyway."

"I'm your kid."

"Listen to me." She took Leah's hand. "Nothing's going on. And besides, he has a daughter who just got home. She's coming to your party, too."

"I didn't know that," Leah replied. "Is she little or something?"

"She's your age."

"You never told me about her."

"She's from the Southwest," Sue said. "New Mexico, I think. Her name's Bella."

"Why'd she move here, then?"

Sue let go of Leah and shrugged as she put food away into cupboards, and Leah leaned against the counter, facing her. "She's having a hard time right now," Sue said, "so she needs to live with her dad."

"Oh, God," Leah breathed. "That means she's crazy, huh?"

"She's not crazy, Lee-Lee. She's going through a lot of changes."

"We all go through puberty."

"Quit being rude. You don't know the girl."

"You're right," Leah said. "And I also don't know why she's coming to my party if I don't know her."

"Has anyone ever told you you've got a bitchy attitude?"

"But we already knew that, Mom."

Sue rolled her eyes. She looked just like Leah, or it was the other way around.

"Where's your brother?" Sue asked.

"I don't know. Probably at Embry's."

"What have they even been doing? Seth's always with Embry."

"I hear they've been building an atomic bomb."

"Funny. Now go clean up the living room."

Leah's second nineteenth birthday party was a lot like her first one, just without all the cussing because there were parents in the house. Quil was also gone. The Clearwater residence wasn't big enough to hold everyone there, but they made it work. They always did.

Charlie and Bella Swan had been at the party for ten minutes before Leah was introduced to Bella. It was Jacob Black, of all people, who introduced them.

"Leah, this is Bella. Bella, this is Leah, Sue's oldest kid."

Bella, who actually didn't want to be there since she didn't know Leah, smiled a small, polite smile, not showing her teeth. Bella was average to Leah, but not entirely ugly. She had plain brown hair and a plain face with plain features and plain pale skin. The only thing that really stuck out about her was that she had incredibly tired, weary eyes. She and Leah shook hands, and things got very awkward very fast.

"I'm sorry about your dad," was what Bella blurted out.

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Don't worry about it," she said. She turned to Jacob and gave him a look. What's this girl on?

Leah avoided Bella after that. She stuck with Emily and Kim like she usually did. She held a safe, meaningless conversation with Paul for a little while like they were platonic friends, like they hadn't seen each other naked before. She tried not to think of him naked, but it didn't work. She wanted to escape the annoying, hellish party and go somewhere—anywhere—with him. She knew Paul was single, yet she felt that she was still at second place, and second just was not the same.

She turned back to the circle of friends sitting around in the living room, and Jacob was speaking. He was being so extroverted all of a sudden. Bella was at his side, tuned in like everybody else.

"Our mudpies were sick," he said.

"Wait, you and Bella know each other?" Embry asked.

He turned to Bella and smiled, remembering their date. It had been a mess, but a good time regardless. "Oh, yeah, we go way back."

"Are you staying up here, Bella?" Seth asked.

She nodded. "Yeah," she said humbly.

"Awesome," Seth said.

Leah turned to Kim and motioned her to come in closer. She cupped her hand around her ear and leaned in.

"Did I miss something?" Leah asked. "Because I don't recall the new girl ever showing traits of a personality."

Kim leaned in to whisper in Leah's ear. "She's new and white, so she's interesting by default. Like a shiny new toy."

Leah looked over at Bella. It was all too true.

Not much time had passed when Bella and Charlie decided to head home. Charlie had to go to work the next day and Bella had to catch up on whatever sleep she claimed to have lost. Sue spent an extra long time saying goodbye to Charlie after trying to get him to stay for "just one more beer." Leah tried to ignore that and focused on saying goodbye to Bella.

She leaned in to give Bella a hug out of pure politeness since it was the way she had been raised. Bella didn't really know how to react to it, so it was as awkward as Leah expected it to be. For a second, she wondered if Bella had been raised in the jungle.

As they hugged, Leah murmured in Bella's ear, "My mom doesn't actually want to fuck your dad."

Bella let go and looked at the other girl with wide eyes. "What?"

Leah just shook her head. "Don't worry about it. It was nice meeting you, Becca."

"Bella."

"I'm sorry?"

"My name's Bella," she corrected. "You called me Becca."

"Oh, sorry." A fake smile was plastered on Leah's face. "Nice meeting you, Bella." She didn't mean it.

"You, too, Leah." She didn't mean it, either.

She promised herself she'd never return to La Push.

Bella stayed remote and indoors until the night before Thanksgiving, when she went shopping. She and Charlie had both grown so unstable; they had forgotten that the holiday was coming up so quickly. Bella didn't want to ask Jacob if he and his father were celebrating Thanksgiving; she thought it would be embarrassing on behalf of her ancestors.

So she went to the grocery store—the big one in Forks—to go shopping. She didn't want to alienate Charlie any more than she might have already done. They would have a good, traditional Thanksgiving with a turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie and a parade and football on TV.

She just wished she knew where to start. Slowly pushing a shopping cart that felt a little too heavy despite being completely empty, she wandered aimlessly throughout the store. She had her headphones plugged into her phone and stuck in her ears as she searched for basic Thanksgiving shopping lists, making sure she didn't mess it up, but the music only made her feel lethargic and she hardly got any service in the store. She was just going to have to wing it.

Moving carefully as a vision in a green flannel jacket and blue jeans, she went through every aisle, looking for everything. She didn't seem to have a budget; she also just didn't care. She picked up every Thanksgiving side dish known to man, and even some extra things. She didn't have to be totally traditional.

She was stopped in an aisle and took out one earbud, looking for stuffing, when she reminded herself that she didn't have to be totally traditional. She hated stuffing, even when it was a side and not completely bastardizing the turkey, but she still thoughtfully stared at countless boxes because if Charlie was like everyone else in the country, he liked stuffing. There were just too many options, though. Would he settle for traditional stuffing? Bella may never know.

"There are too many options," a familiar voice said from Bella's left.

Bella looked up and turned. She felt her heart drop.

It was none other than Edward Cullen.

He was just the way she had left him last August: oblivious and clean-cut. He had shaved recently, she could tell, and he looked like he had just showered. His cheeks were red against his pale face. He wore her favorite casual outfit of his: a simple ensemble of dark blue jeans and a gray shirt and her favorite black jacket. He was the same as ever.

It was Bella who was different. She, clad in her dumpy flannel jacket and old jeans and ratty sneakers, had gotten worse. She had let herself fall off. The last time she'd done her hair up really nice or dressed in a flattering way was for him, last August. While she had been away, she'd stopped caring. Now she was tired eyes and sallow cheeks and raw lips and bony hips. She just couldn't force herself to be embarassed, though. He'd seen the best of her; he'd seen the worst of her. This was somewhere in the middle.

Despite her appearance, he saw the real her. He gave her a crooked smile, the classic one that she had fallen for from the very, very beginning of them and everything that had evolved into them. She had been freezing, but that crooked smile set her ablaze.

"Happy Thanksgiving," he said.

While she had always been the type to drop everything to please him, he wasn't the same in that way. When Edward had set plans, he didn't change them. Not for himself, not for Bella, not for anybody. His constant punctuality and consistency drove her crazy because she could never be that way. She was always moving, always changing, even when she was static like right now, and the fact that he liked to stay in his comfortable spot really got to her. It made her feel inadequate. Just because she didn't mind being tossed around to suit his schedule didn't mean she preferred to be.

Edward promised her that after the holiday, they would talk. He was a sophomore at Dartmouth right now, and he had things to focus on. They would talk at Christmas, but not now. He shrunk her down like he normally did. He folded and molded and crumpled her up into less like a person, but more like a detail, or en event, or a meeting. The day he came home from Dartmouth for Christmas would be the day they officially talked.

She was used to being shrunken, though, so she didn't mind. She had given him the power to be so effective, so now she was paying for it. She had allowed him to cut her to pieces and watch her disintegrate, so the only thing she could do was take it.

"You are so small."

"Then let me grow."

Fucking bullshit.

But they spoke when he came home for Christmas. She was the first person he talked to because she took up a specific time slot in his busy schedule, and he was punctual. Punctual to a damn T. He hadn't always been this way. He used to accept accidental meetings.

She cleaned herself up this time. He didn't mind the disheveled, one-hundred-percent-completely-done-caring version of her because he knew that it existed, but he preferred someone he could take out, even to a place he didn't like going to.

She played with the ring on the necklace as they sat at a dinner table at her favorite restaurant in Port Angeles. He thought the location was tacky and reflected on his poor skills as a boyfriend, since he had definitely shown her much more beautiful places than this in an attempt to turn her into somebody as worldly as he was, but she didn't care. This restaurant was where their first real date had taken place, before he had become so oriented in money and traveling and planning and more.

Her fingers wouldn't leave the ring alone. He watched her intensely.

"Are you still mad?" she asked him.

"Are you sorry?"

She knew what he wanted her to say. "I'm not sorry," she said, "but I'm still ashamed."

"Well, I'm not mad," he told her, "but I'm still upset."

"Why aren't you mad? Edward, I lie and stole and pretty much cheated and wouldn't fess up to any of it. I ran off instead. I'd hate me."

"I could never hate you, Bella," he said. His green eyes weren't focused on her; they were searching for something in the table lantern between them. He was looking for something to say that wouldn't hurt her feelings.

"Never?"

"No. But I'm tired of being mad."

She nodded. "Okay."

He looked up at her and leaned forward. With their faces close, he shut his eyes and brought his hand up to her hair. He breathed her in now and breathed out the bad times. He couldn't afford to have them on his mind, and neither could she.

"I'll change, I swear," she whispered.

He kissed her for the first time since August, and they were back to square one.

"All these things will change."

Christmas Day. It looked like any other day.

Even though she swore she would change, her depression got the best of her. It was especially bad now since she had stopped taking her prescribe medication for it just after Thanksgiving, probably when she needed it the most. It never did much for her, anyway.

So she spent today in a haze; she hardly spoke to Charlie after he gave her a sweater that didn't even fit her, and she sure as shit didn't text Edward back. When Charlie had turned to Billy and Jacob Black because Bella was just too damn boring and depressing to be around, she turned to her old habits. She thought she told Charlie she'd meet up with them later, but she couldn't remember now.

Christmas Day didn't feel like any other day. It felt worse.

Even though she wasn't on good or bad or any terms with Quil, she still had her ways. The badlands always had corners for her to crawl in and be consumed by. The badlands loved people like her. Weed wasn't really enough for her now. Now, she took pills. She was still into downers; these days, it was getting harder and harder to sleep and stay asleep. Valium was her best fucking friend since her antidepressants had never done any good for her.

A Christmas Story played on television that morning. It would play all day. She'd seen the movie only a hundred times, so she spent most of her intoxicated time absentmindedly staring out the window.

It was cloudy outside, and it was then that she realized she'd never see a white Christmas. That was only meant for the movies.

Make it stop.

Bella wore nothing but a hoodie and underwear as she curled up on the couch in the living room with two Valium pills in her left hand and a flask of vodka in her right. She was far aware of the fact that every decision she made was a bad one, but it was only solidified when she caught ahold of her cell phone. She called Edward as she laid on the couch. She wore black panties and a black hoodie without a bra underneath, her skin looking paler and colder than ever. Her dark hair was wild and all around her.

Her drugs were what she wanted, but he was what she needed. At least that was what she said into the phone before hanging up. She knew he wouldn't make time for her; she hadn't asked him in advance. But she sadly, deeply, truly wished he would.

Please, please make it stop.

When she was at the halfway point between tipsy and actually drunk, she dragged herself upstairs to take a bath. She locked the door behind her. She needed to wash him off of her; when she looked down at her thighs, all she saw were the prints of his hands. They trailed along her body like kisses, but they were as shameful as the prints of hits. His kisses and hits felt almost the same to her.

MAKE IT STOP.

She needed to burn him off, scald herself until she was fresh and new and whole. She only felt herself growing colder and dirtier and emptier as she stood on the tiles. So she turned on the water knob all the way to the left, to the hottest it could go, and filled the bathtub almost entirely.

She stripped down to nothing and kicked her clothes to the corner. Trying not to catch a glance of her naked body in the mirror, she set her flask and phone down on the cold toilet seat cover next to the tub.

She dipped a toe into the scalding water, and then both legs, and then slowly sat down, not minding the burn. She was freezing. She shifted so she could sink a little. Steaming hot water spilled over the edge of the tub, splattering against the off-white tiles. It didn't matter to her. Nothing really did.

Make it stop.

She grabbed her phone off the toilet seat and scrolled through it, looking for music. A couple years ago, back when Edward had only started to stop being spontaneous, he had made them a playlist for when they had sex. They lived by it whenever they were together. Even though he was very organized and plan-oriented, she loved having sex with him. She loved sex, period. And she listened to their playlist on her own more than anything. He had carefully crafted it, and like everything else he did, it was in good taste. She played it in its correct order. It was the same damn songs, but it was lovely.

She got her kicks like he—or at least a more spontaneous version of him—would. She drank and felt, felt and drank. She didn't mind her own touch; sometimes she preferred it. Soon, she was numb everywhere, which was her addiction's fault and not hers.

The drugs were what she wanted, but he was what she needed. Wasn't it clear?

She couldn't get him off her mind and she couldn't get herself off, either. She felt rushed and slow and hot and cold all at once. She didn't know what to do, so she kept her fingers between her legs instead and kept him on her mind.

"You are so small."

"Then let me grow."

How could he have said that while singlehandedly shrinking her just by being in her presence?

New Year's Eve. She felt almost the same.

She dreaded the day because she felt inclined to kick old habits, but she never would. The only things she had dropped were her antidepressants.

Charlie was at work, and during the day, Edward came over. He had let her know he was coming, but she hadn't found the energy to look presentable. Not having bathed or washed her hair or consumed any real food besides the obligatory holiday treat since Christmas, she looked and felt like a trainwreck. He wore her favorite outfit on him again and his green eyes were honest. She wore her unwashed, unchanged pajamas and avoided eye contact. She had avoided any contact with him whatsoever since she'd last promised she'd change.

She shut the front door. They stood against the wall by the stairwell. He held his warm hands in her cold ones.

"I've been calling you," he said.

"I've been calling you, too."

"You called me on Christmas. You know how my family is when it comes to that."

She nodded. "Yeah."

"How have you been?" There was only a mile between them.

"I've been well," she lied. "You?"

"Worrying about you." It was a damn lie to her. "I thought you weren't going to go back to that, Bella. I thought you were going to stop disappearing."

"I didn't disappear," she said, shaking her head and letting go of his hands. "I've literally been right here in my house. You were the one who didn't wanna make time to call."

"I already told you—"

"I know, I know," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. It was greasy, but she didn't care. "Your family. But you know I've been here and nowhere else. If you were so worried, then you should have visited."

"Well, I didn't," he said curtly. "So there's no going back."

"Okay."

He narrowed his eyes and leaned in. "Have you been drinking?"

"Why does—"

"Have you been drinking?" he repeated.

"Only a little bit," she said. She blinked slowly. "It's been boring around here."

"You know how I get about you doing that without me," he told her.

She folded her arms across her chest. "What, did you want me to share?"

He sneered. "You know it's not like that."

"Then what is it, Edward?" she demanded. "You get mad when I drink or smoke or do anything without you, but why does it matter? And don't say it's about safety, because I know it's not."

"It's about us," he said. "We're supposed to do those things together, Bella. You're disappearing on me again, and I can't handle it. You can't keep secrets from me anymore. That's why we broke up last time, and you're so fucking aware of this. Don't do this to us, Bella. Don't do it."

"The thing is, Edward," she began, "you're not even mad about secrets or whatever. You're fucking mad because of my depression and you don't know how to handle it. When you're getting hammered with me, it's so you can keep it in check. You don't know how to take it when I express even in the slightest way that I'm still struggling with depression so you just shut me up when you can. You don't want to help me—you just don't want me to fall apart in front of you."

"How could you say that I don't want to help you when I fucking hate it when you drink alone?"

"Because that's not what it's about," she yelled. "You know me—you know me better than anyone else—but you're ashamed of it. You don't want me to drink or get high or do anything alone because you don't want to be there to clean up the mess when you find me. You're too fucking worried about getting your hands dirty by being with me, but fucking get this—I'm here. This is who the fuck I am."

His eyes were wild. He stared at her like she was crazy when in reality, this was just her in general. He just always tried to keep it on mute, but he couldn't hide it now. "So you're an addict?" he asked. "That's what you think I'm afraid of?"

"No," she lied, "but I know you're afraid of my depression. I'm not perfect, Edward. I'm not anything you admire, and that's why you only like having me over when no one's around. That's why you take me everywhere in the state but you never want to have me over for dinner with your family, here in town. I fucking know it and I hate you for it."

"Then why did you say you would change?" he asked. "You told me all these things about you would change."

Tears burned her eyes. "I lied."

"You're so fucking difficult now." His voice was low.

"I've always been that way. You just didn't wanna see it."

They were silent, and even though she didn't like him at this given moment, she didn't want to let the silence hang in the air.

"Bella, this isn't going to work out anymore," was what he finally said.

"What do you mean?"

"We're done. We don't belong together. It's been that way from the start."

"So forever meant nothing to you?" Her voice was thick, and she was about to start crying. There was no going back. "I thought we were better than this."

And they really were better than this; they had the idealistic, cinematic kind of love that was everlasting. How could he forget that? Didn't he know who he was dealing with? Yes, it was unfashionable to love her, but he was the only person who had the capacity to love her. He was the only person who knew how to love her, even if he didn't want to accept all that she was, and now he was just going to throw it all away? Yes, she had issues, but how could he stop dealing with them all of a sudden? He was the most stable guy she knew, but now he wanted to drop all of it because reality was caving in a little?

No fucking way.

"I could have picked anyone," he murmured, "and I picked you." She couldn't tell whether he was ashamed or just pensive.

"You've never wanted anyone else," she reminded him. She paused for a beat. "Is there someone else?"

"No."

Just what she thought.

"I can change," she told him, trying to take back everything she had said. She wanted to be his lifeless doll again. She wanted him to shrink her and wind her up because she now knew that being in total control of herself and forcing herself to grow only destroyed everything.

"I didn't know," she continued, "but I'll change. I swear I will. You caught me in a really bad time and—"

"You're always in a really bad time," he interrupted, his voice condescending.

"But I can change," she said again. "All these things will change, Edward. I promise."

She was full of empty promises. He'd known her for so long that he couldn't buy them anymore.

He just shook his head. "No, they won't," he said. Then he turned around to open the front door. A gust of cold wind hit her hard.

She grabbed his arm, trying to get him to stay. He pried her hand away, and it fell down to her side.

"I know it's hard for you to love me," she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I know it's really, really hard since I'm so all over the place all the time, but you're the only one who sees the real me. Edward, if you don't love me, who will?"

He turned to her, and she would never forget his beautiful green eyes. They were burned into her memory instantly.

"Hopefully, you."

As the queen of empty promises, Bella went back to La Push three days later. Nobody asked why.

A/N: Thanks for reading, and take care.

HS