The next week passes quietly. Charlie sleeps on the couch and I pretend to be asleep as he periodically checks in on me, and during the day he gets me out of the house to go on walks, eat out at diner. He clearly isn't used to preparing full meals so when we do eat at home, I make sure to take care of the cooking.

But it can't last like that forever. When the end of his leave reaches us, I can sense the weight of all that has been unsaid between us. Charlie and I both aren't much for talking, but for the first time now I think that Charlie is trying to break past that.

We are at the diner when he first broached the subject.

"How's your head, Bells?"

We visited Dr. Cullen yesterday for the follow-up, and he said everything was normal. Dizziness, loss of concentration, and the constant ringing in my ears are all to be expected.

"I'm fine," I mumble, playing with my dinner.

"And…" he trails off, as though questioning whether to continue.

"Have you spoken with your mother?"

After the night I logged into my messages, I didn't know what to say to my mom. After a while I just bit the bullet and called her on Charlie's ancient landline.

She had answered right away despite the late hour, demanding to know if I intended to come home, why I left, what my plan was. I seemed to lose my ability to speak in that moment and her questions hung in silence, until she eventually sighed and said,

"Bella, I know things haven't been the best here. I know Phil isn't the very best, but he means well, and he loves you. We both do."

I thought about words said between us in arguments, how hurtful they were. How unsafe I felt in that house.

"Has he ever put his hands on you, Bella?"

I froze.

"Phil?" I squeaked.

"Your father told me about everything Bella, and if he-"

"No, no. Phil never touched me."

I'd never seen eye to eye with my stepfather, but he had never crossed any kind of line beyond unkind words and unjust punishment.

My mom was never any kind of saint either. Maybe it took me leaving for her to unlock her non-crazy side to talk to me in a compassionate way, but it wasn't her usual voice she was using. Mom had a way of tapping into this kinder nature whenever it was required to get her way.

She'd asked me to come home again, but I felt some sort of mental block leading me to not respond. All I knew was I had to stay far away from Phoenix. It's like every muscle in my body was frozen and trying to protect me from this place.

I didn't respond to her request, and eventually she hung up the voice call. I've avoided all computer access since then.

My mom and I have always disagreed, and in the past, it's led to screaming and crying fights, with verbal assaults launched from both sides. I used to always respond in anger, desperately trying to get her to see my side, but now I look where the anger used to be and it just feels hollow. I can't think of, I can't even process anything that has happened in the last two weeks. I am numb to it all.

I've been to the therapist twice now, and Charlie is adamant I continue with my sessions twice a week. It's gone okay, the counselor wants to "know my story," and I talk about the easy parts. About family disagreements, the part of me that misses home. When she asks why I left I lose my voice, so she encourages me to journal. I can't tell if the therapy has done anything for me yet, but she says that I need to actively face my trauma to overcome it.

Right now, I'm just trying to survive.

"Bella?"

My head snaps up and I stare blankly at him, trying to figure out what he wants from me.

"Your mom? Have you talked to her?"

The throbbing in my head comes back and I put my head in my hands, massaging my temples.

"Yeah, Daddy. We talked; she understands."

I don't know how much of that is true. Understands what? She understands I don't want to be there. She doesn't accept it. I try not to dwell on it.

"I've talked to her a few times, we're both worried for you Bells…"

I know that. He calls her after I'm in bed but I usually catch part of the worried murmur.

"She said your boyfriend has come calling for you."

I cover my eyes and I don't look at him. I'm almost holding my breath, like if I do he will believe that I'm not really here and he'll drop the subject.

"Bella, if anything happened, you know you can talk to me, or your mother, or Dr. Flowers…"

I shake my head, and I don't uncover my eyes. I try to hide my face from him.

"Bella, it may be a matter for the police-"

"Stop!"

I hiss the words, and now I'm angry. I stare directly at him and I can feel my heartbeat increase dramatically and the overwhelming feeling of suffocation takes over as I take too-short breaths.

"I don't- I don't want to talk anymore."

"Bella-"

"Please, Daddy." I turn my pleading eyes to him. Maybe it's the desperation in my eyes that causes him to stop.

"Please don't make me. I can't. Please."

He exhales slowly, and I can see deep hurt and worry in his eyes. I know he just wants to help me, but all I want right now is to hide from it all, to pretend like nothing outside of Forks is real.

-

I take a nap when we get home because my head is pounding, and when I wake up in my bed as the sun is setting. I stay laying still for a minute. The last few times this happened Charlie was there waiting by my bedside when U woke up, but today he's nowhere to be seen. I sit up and my head continues to throb, so I reach into my bedside table and take a couple pills.

I make my way downstairs and take in the new sounds. The tv is on and playing football, but I also hear the lowered murmur of voices coming from the living room.

Lately, hushed voices indicate that I am the topic of conversation.

I make my way into the living room and see my father, Billy Black, and Jacob Black.

Jacob and I grew up together on the summers when I would visit and were always extremely close during those times. I didn't come back this summer, so this is my first time seeing him in over a year.

"Hey, Bella!"

Jacob's cheerful voice pierces through my headache but I try to ignore the pain, wincing at his words.

He gets up to greet me, and I smile and give him a quick hug. Things have always been easy between us, which I'm especially grateful for now.

"You okay Bella?" My father asks, his voice gruff, and frankly, tired. I try to smile and say,

"The nap sure helped."

My tone falls flat but he doesn't seem to notice. I turn my attention towards the game.

Jake and I talk occasionally during the school year, but I stopped answering his calls a couple months before the summer started. Then I didn't come back. The guilt of this transgression begins to creep up on me now; before, with so much going on, it was easy to ignore. But with his watchful eyes on me, probably curious to my general state of disarray, I find it really difficult to try and meet his gaze.

Jacob has always been really nice to me. I've always fallen under a weird, quiet category, but that never bothered Jake. He would always know when to fill in for the quiet parts, and he always knew when to let things be. Now, I've really done it in the bad friend category.

I don't know if the football game falls under things I can't comprehend because of my migraine, or if I really am just that tragically bad at sports that I can't keep up. Either way I find myself staring at the tv, desperately trying to grasp what is going on.

"I'm going to go pick up some snacks," he announces. Billy and Charlie agree easily, and he rises to his feet.

"You wanna come, Bella?"

I raise my eyebrows.

"To the kitchen?"

He laughs.

"I thought we'd walk to the Mini Mart."

The idea of getting out of the house for a second time today sounds exhausting, but I relent. Going out like this is what we've always done.

Jacob holds out his hand, but I wave it off, and I ask Charlie and Billy if they want us to get them anything. Once I have my list, we're off.

"Forks treating you well?" Jacob asks.

It's a simple question, and not too offensive so I answer it.

"Same town, different year."

He laughs.

"But you know you missed it."

I smile. I did miss the little cloudy town on the coast of Washington. As much as I loved the dry, hot summer in Pheonix, they never really compared to the summers spent fishing, camping, and running around with Jake.

We walk for a few minutes before a thought strikes me.

"Were they talking about me before I came down?"

He stops walking and turns to acknowledge me. He regards me for a moment, looking me up and down before he says, "is that a serious question?"

I flush, but don't give in.

"What were they saying?"

He laughs and starts walking again, which irritates me.

"Hey!" I take a few steps to catch up to him.

He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, as though he's thinking over his next step carefully.

"You know, Bella, you made quite an entrance. You cancel your summer here, you don't answer my calls for months,"

My cheeks flush at the memory of that.

"You show up looking like crap, but even worse, so depressed that Charlie puts you on suicide watch—"

I wince. I didn't know about that one.

"And you want to know what everyone is saying about you?"

I hold up my hands in surrender, but no words seem to find me. I let his words hang in the air while my still-damaged brain tries to process this new information.

Jacob turns to me.

"Bella,"

"Don't."

My words are harsh but when I look into my friends' eyes mine are filled with tears.

Jacob just stares for a minute.

"You don't have to talk about it, but you do have to talk to me."

I start walking again and he follows me.

"You can't just shut everyone out, I'm your friend and I care about you."

"Charlie shouldn't be talking about me with you."

Anger is seeping in, replacing the guilt from earlier.

Jacob grabs my arm and I flinch, pushing him away and stumbling back. He looks startled but he persists.

"He doesn't know how to reach you. He's desperate for you to talk to someone."

I don't say anything because my head is spinning again. From the touch, from his words… I know I'm in a position where I'm hurting those around me, but I don't know how to start, or what to do. I feel embarrassed by the entire situation, as well as the mystery that everyone else is living with.

"I'm sorry," I finally say.

Jacob smiles.

"Don't apologize, Bells. Just don't shut the door and lock it."

I nod, but I don't know how to follow up.

"You start school on Monday?"

I nod groaning.

"Unfortunately."

"You like school!" He laughs.

I point to my head.

"I have a concussion; I can't remember anything."

He winces. "Yeah, but, they're gonna help you out?"

I shrug.

"They can't do much for me if I can't hold a thought or focus."

"Won't you get better though?"

He looks so concerned, I laugh a little.

"Surely. Time is bound to heal all wounds, I reckon."

~

I suggest making our way back, but Jake blows the idea off. Apparently he thinks Charlie and Billy would rather watch the game without us, so we walk down to the local park. When we were much younger, we used to walk here on summer days when we didn't have any school, just to blow off steam. Usually, we'd have about twenty dollars cash between us to get us through the day. A lot was simpler back then.

"Don't you have friends you left in Pheonix?" Jacob broaches the 'home' subject carefully.

"Oh, sure." I say nonchalantly.

"Have you reached out to them at all?"

I laugh. "No phone."

"Well, you were able to talk to your mom…"

I wonder how much Charlie has revealed about me to him. Part of me is resentful, but I chalk it up to the concerned father part of him and try to let it go.

"I guess I did."

I don't want to be short, but I don't really want to talk about home.

"I wish you went to Forks High."

The comment makes him look sadder than anything else that he's confronted tonight, and I feel a pang of guilt for the comment.

"I do too."

Before, he probably would have made a joke about the exclusivity of his school on the reservation. Now, since I'm made of glass, he just pities me.

"Do you wanna race?" I ask, trying to make my tone as enthusiastic as possible.

Six years ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about the request. Today, he looks concerned at the idea.

"I don't know, Bells…"

I roll up my sleeves and say "Ready, get set, go!"

I'm racing before he is, so he doesn't have much choice but to follow my lead. When we were kids, I was faster hands down. But back then, I was the tall one. We reach the fence at the end of the field and I start laughing, falling to the ground breathless.

"You were going easy on me,"

He grins and holds out a hand to help me up but I wave him off.

"I'm hopelessly out of shape, I'm sorry. I need a minute."

He crouches down next to me and looks around the park while I slowly get my breathing back to normal. He looks at me and I watch as the previous joy leaves his eyes as he reaches for my wrist.

He's looking at the faded, finger print shaped bruises left on my arms. Some are bigger, from a closed fist instead of a tight grip. He doesn't say anything, and he doesn't look away from my arms. For the first time, I don't feel safe in the silence, and I feel the need to fill it.

"It just looks so bad because I'm pale."

He looks to my face for a second and laughs ruefully.

"An anemic." I add, hoping delusionally that this fact would clear up any worry in his mind.

"Come on Bella, let's at least be for real about this at least."

His voice is measured, but the traces of anger in his usually cheerful tone is almost too much for me.

I pull my hand away and roll my sleeve back up. He doesn't protest or say anything at all.

I hate the way that everything around me is dreary now. Seeing my friend, going to lunch. I hate that they treat me so delicately, and I hate that if they didn't, I couldn't endure.

He doesn't say anything at first and helps me to my feet. We make our way back to the playground, which is surprisingly empty for a Saturday. I sit on the swing and start pushing myself back and forwards.

"I'll kill him."

His words make me stop, and I don't freeze up like before, but turn to him, anger blazing in my eyes.

"Don't even think about it." I hiss.

"Bella, you cannot seriously think that someone who would do that to you deserves—"

"I do not care about what you think, you need to stay out of it, Jake." I spit the words out with anger, and I feel like there's some kind of line in the sand right now. On the other side of the line, Jacob isn't safe. It's my job to make him safe.

"You're killing me, Bella."

I stand to my feet and am immediately dizzy, but I turn to him, holding on to the swing for support.

"You're killing your father." I wince at the words, but he doubles down.

"Everyone here wants to help you, but you're shutting us out."

My eyes meet his, and there are tears streaming down my face.

"I'm sorry," My voice is unsteady, but I clear my throat and continue.

"I'm sorry if my problems are too much to bear for you, but no one asked you to bear them. All I asked was for you to stay out of it—"

"Bella—"

"I didn't ask you to involve yourself, that was all you. I didn't ask you to come here."

I turn to walk away from him but he catches my hand.

"I care about you, Bells. If this were someone else and you were in my shoes—"

"Do you think I'm doing this for fun?" My voice is quiet now, and I look to the ground.

"Do you think I left my childhood home to come live in the cold as a game? Do you think I like getting tongue tied over every little question— getting to hear my dad walking around late at night because his worry for me is interrupting his sleep?"

"Bella, look," His voice is more measured now, and the anger in it has subsided, but now it's my turn.

"All I want to do is to feel okay again, to pretend like nothing happens and wait until the day where I can feel safe. But all anyone wants from me is for me to talk about the bad stuff and I can't— I can't—"

The overwhelming pressure comes back to my chest, which I clutch, desperately trying to get rid of the pain.

I can't breathe, and the pounding in my head coupled with the panic attack makes me so nauseous that for a moment, I think I'm literally going to keel over and die.

I'm hyperventilating and I can't stop, but his watchful eyes on mine make me turn away from him. I try to run away but only make it a few paces before collapsing.

I can't hear anything beyond the ringing in my ears, but I feel his hand on my shoulder. I don't want to look to him, but after a moment, he pulls me close to him in a warm embrace. I cling to him until the pain within me finally subsides.

When the quiet finally returns, I don't know how to break it. I don't want to talk, or not talk, or fight anymore.

"I wish things were just normal."

Jake squeezes my hand.

"From now on I'll treat you like normal, Bella."

I look up at him, and tears are flooding my eyes again.

"Well, maybe a slower version of me," I point to my head again and he laughs.

"Maybe once your concussion eases up we can rematch, you were running pretty lopsided."

I laugh. "I still don't think I'll have a chance against your height."

He rolls his eyes.

"I want to check on you after school on Monday, but…"

"No phone," I finish for him, shrugging.

"You doing anything to fix that?"

I shake my head.

"My life is simpler without one."

It's his turn to shrug, but I can tell he's disappointed.

"We'll work something out," I promise. "Besides, Charlie still has the landline."

He laughs.

"I'll call you after school on Monday."