This story is "just for fun". I haven't written in years, and I think a little creative exercising might help me out. Twilight is such an evergreen work I thought it would be fun to play with the aspects of the story and make something new, hopefully you enjoy!

I don't allow myself to close my eyes on the four-hour plane ride to Washington. I won't until I am well clear of this situation, even if it has already been too long already since I last slept. Time has been moving unnaturally slowly, and unnaturally fast all at once. Charlie was probably leaving the house now to meet me in Seattle, and once I landed, I would be in a new world.

I didn't bring my phone. I'm wondering now what my plan is to get to Charlie, but it's too late now. I packed a big suitcase full of everything I could get my hands on, but will it be enough? I left in such a hurry— there wasn't much room for planning.

My father had bought tickets the second I called him, sobbing. He booked an Uber to get me to the airport, and he promised he would be there to get me. He was immediately adamant about getting me to him, he didn't even protest when I said it had to be now. He barely asked for details, he would have walked to get to me in that moment.

My mother wasn't home when I left. No goodbye. Phil was home, passed out drunk at eleven am. No one saw me go.

I don't think they will follow me, but they aren't really what I'm running from either.

My eye is beginning to swell, and there is a dull throb on the back of my head. I wince, and I wonder if there is any chance of a concussion. I rub my head and feel dried blood, not good.

I can't let him touch me again. I won't be safe until I'm thousands of miles away, and he doesn't know how to look for me.

Everything about the last few days feels fuzzy, and I know my thoughts are slowing down, the best I can do is to tell myself that I will be safe soon. Charlie wouldn't let anyone close to me; if anyone ever thought of where to look. If he ever thought of where to look.

Of course, I hadn't told my father the extent of what happened or my fears. When he did ask, my throat clammed up and the words wouldn't come. I felt overwhelming shame, guilt…. Fear. I didn't want to burden my father more than I already had, but it also could be a burden not to know.

I doze off and seem to hear a roar of my own thoughts mixed with the voices of those around me. When I wake, I am disoriented. I look around to see people grabbing their things and I instinctively reach up for my backpack, clutching it to myself defensively.

I wander for a concerning amount of time- though I'm not sure how long. I feel dizzy, I don't know what I'm looking for. I don't know if I'm looking down at the same hallways multiple times, or if I'm getting more and more lost the further I look.

A hand eventually grabbed my shoulder, and I flinch, turning to see my attacker. After a moment too long, I recognize him, flinging my arms around his neck.

"Oh, Daddy!" Tears leak down my face, and a flood of relief covers me. I made it. Charlie would take me home. I was going to be okay.

"Bells," He murmurs, caressing my hair.

He pulls me at arm's length, pain and fury flooding his eyes. "Your face," I wince as his fingers graze my swollen skin.

"Daddy…." He looks down. "I want to go home. Please."

I can see the pain in his expression, but he doesn't continue with any more questions. I think he sees how terrible I look, and decides the best thing anyways is for me to get out of this airport.

I want to tell him, I want to tell him everything, but it's like my mind and my mouth won't work together. Like my body knows the moment I open my mouth, I will drop the secrets it has been trying so hard to keep.

He is the same way. I got it from him, the tendency to hold on to such big feelings until they were easy to hold. Or, usually, to hold on to them forever. I couldn't stop now.

"I know, baby. I know."

He takes me home and insists on bringing my suitcase up the stairs for me. He opens it for me on the floor, and I stare down at the open mess from where I am laying, defeated, on the bed.

From here, at least, I can tell that I brought at least some underwear, some t-shirts, some pants… I don't know how long these things will last, but at least I'm not starting over.

"Look in the front pocket of my backpack," I say, trying not to let the fatigue show in my voice.

He sits next to me and unzips the pocket. Revealed is my driver's license, my birth certificate, and about two thousand dollars cash in a bank envelope.

"It's all my savings. Take it, I know everything wasn't cheap."

He only shakes his head, not saying anything for a long moment.

"Bella, I don't want your money. I would pay anything to know that you're okay."

I don't know what to say to that, so I don't say anything. After a minute, Charlie stands, and kisses my forehead.

"Get some rest, Bella. I'll be here all night, and all day tomorrow."

I don't say anything this time either, allowing myself to finally drift into an uneasy sleep.

When I wake up, I'm confused. It takes me a long while of laying still to remember where I am, what happened. The weight of the last couple of days, especially the last forty-eight hours with no shower finally hits me. Though every bone in my body begs me to stay in bed and rest, I force myself up and wander down the hall to the bathroom.

The bathroom is surprisingly well stocked, and I wonder if Charlie really was able to do all of this by himself. There is shampoo and conditioner in the shower, razors, tampons… He spared no expense to get me here, or to make sure that I was comfortable.

I begin to undress and shudder when I see the fingerprint shaped bruises along my arms, shoulder, neck, and thighs. I don't want to look at them, but I don't want to look away. I try to reconcile the state that my body is into the way that I remember everything in my mind, and I can't. Things don't seem to click, and it makes me dizzy.

I feel the overwhelming urge to wash this from me, and I climb in the bathtub, scared that I would be too weak to stay standing in the hot shower. I take my time to wash over myself three times and shampoo my hair several times. My head isn't just throbbing now but burning. I try not to think about the implications of that.

It takes twice as much energy to get back to my room as it did to leave it, and I can barely bring myself to pull a nightgown over my head before I collapse back on to the bed, exhausting completely overtaking me once again.

When I open my eyes again, I am in a panic. I'm being pushed into the sitting position, and I'm very afraid. I try to scream, but all that come out is a low moan. Every muscle in my body feel like jelly.

"Bella, baby look at me."

It's dark in the room again. Did I sleep all day?

"You have a fever, Bella. It's very high." I feel myself getting lifted off my feet, and I'm vaguely surprised that it is so easy for Charlie to lift me.

"Where are we going?" I murmur, clenching my eyes shut to avoid the glaring hallway light.

"We're going to the hospital, sweetheart."

I continue to doze off, only vaguely aware of when I am laid in the passenger seat and when we arrive I stumble out of cruiser, holding on to the door for support. Charlie is beside me instantly, but I wave him off.

"I can walk." I murmur.

This proves to be half true as I am immediately stumbling, but Charlie is immediately by my side for support. It is he who fills out the paperwork, and who comes with me to the hospital room. We wait for the doctor to arrive for an unusually long time before he finally arrives.

Finally, a sharp knock greets the door. It is immediately opened and the doctor walks in. I look up at him and he smiles at me.

"Good evening, Bella, my name is Dr. Cullen, I will be taking care of you tonight."

I know I must be a sight to see.

"I'm just here for a fever." I say curtly, trying to eradicate as much small talk as I can.

He laughs.

"I can see that. One hundred and three, that's very impressive. You must have given Chief Swan quite a scare."

I try to smile back at him, but the attempt falls flat.

I finally raise my eyes to the doctor, but when I do a chill runs over my spine. He's very, very pale, with amber eyes staring kindly towards me. All the same, his demeanor makes me uneasy. My jaw drops as I stare at him.

"What other symptoms have you been experiencing?"

I stare mutely at him until Charlie interjects, describing the problems I've been facing.

"She came yesterday in a state. She has slept for almost twenty hours since she got here and has expressed high levels of confusion and disorientation."

I shrink at the words, embarrassed.

The doctor smiles.

"Thank you, Chief Swan. Could I perhaps have a moment alone with Bella?"

I turn sharply to my father, shaking my head. The entire situation here has made me uneasy and I don't want him to leave now.

"Please don't," I murmur, for once appreciative of my pitiful demeanor. It might make him stay.

Charlie looks between me and the Doctor, who says: "It'll really only be for a short minute."

Something about the kindness in his inflection and the unease his demeanor brings me leaves me feeling deceived.

I shake my head sharply, but Charlie just squeezes my shoulder, saying, "It'll just be for a short minute."

He leaves me staring helplessly after him as he leaves the room.

"Can you tell me how you got the bruises on your face and your chest?" he asks, shining a light into my eyes.

"I don't remember."

I think about the repercussions of these words. I don't want to talk about it, but I'm aware that a sixteen-year-old being brought to the ER by her father for these sorts of injuries doesn't look good from a child welfare point of view, so I hastily add, "Maybe a rough flight. I just got in last night.

That should work.

He doesn't respond, continuing by testing things that I'm sure can't have any relevance to what we're doing here today, such as whether my arms and legs work, if I can walk straight, testing my speech.

After a few minutes of him documenting whatever, he is finding out, he finally says,

"Bella, my job tonight is to treat your physical injuries and to make sure that you leave to a safe environment. I'm sure you're just as eager to reach these goals."

I nod slowly.

"Do you feel safe at home?"

I shake my head, then I stop myself.

"I do."

"Is that the full truth?" His words make me catch my breath, and now I'm irritated at the doctor for inserting himself into my business. I stare up at him for a long time, trying to sus out whatever his intentions are.

"I— I left home. I came here. Anyone could tell you I haven't been living with Charlie, he couldn't have done this. I was in Arizona. He has an alibi."

He nods slowly.

"I believe you, Bella. Can you tell me what happened to cause this?"

I shake my head quickly, and a sharp pain shoots through my head, causing me to wince.

"You have a pretty bad concussion, probably caused by the blunt force trauma to the back of your head."

I nod, my fingers subconsciously reaching for the offending area.

"A concussion is, basically, temporary brain damage. This could cause lasting results, but in a person your age it may not. I will write you a prescription for pain medication, but the main thing I'm going to need you to do is to take it easy and get plenty of rest."

"I can do that." I squeak, embarrassed.

"Now, I am going to require a follow up visit next week so I can be sure about your recovery. Can you at least tell me how you obtained the injuries you have, so that I can be sure to treat you properly?"

I hesitate, before saying, "I fell down the stairs."

The answer does not seem to please him, but he doesn't give me a hard time about it.

"You seem to have fine control over your muscles, but just in case, I'm ordering a full body Xray. So we both can have peach of mind that you are going to make an easy recovery."

I nod, that won't be too bad.

"And I will be sure to write you a doctor's note for the next week or two of school."

"I'm not actually enrolled in Forks, yet." I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks as I mutter the words.

"Nonetheless, when you do begin school, you may require additional time to complete assignments. We will take it as it comes." He smiles at me reassuring, and then he calls Charlie back in the room to sit with me before the Xray tech come to get me.

"Chief Swan, for these types of injuries I will be requiring multiple follow up visits to continue to monitor the damage which was sustained. Ms. Swan may also benefit from counseling, I'll be sure to write a referral."

The doctor shows Charlie the Xray results, and concerned shots are thrown my way. I sigh. My wrist had only just healed from an incident several months ago, and even without recent troubles— I have never been known to be anything more than clumsy. I had broken bones every summer of my childhood, and the image of the damage done to my skeleton over the years cannot look good.

But nothing is broken right now, so I am sent home with a referral to the only shrink in all of Forks. This was not something I was especially eager to take on, but Charlie seemed especially adamant. I knew he didn't know how to talk to me, maybe if I could only go see someone who knew what to say, then his mind would be at ease. I couldn't begrudge him that.

The concussion that the doctor and I had discussed was apparently severe, and I was ordered one week of very strict rest, followed by being allowed to begin school. I just had to remember to take it easy. A doctor's note would apparently be sent to all my teachers with very strict accommodations listed, which was probably the perfect first impression one could have on a teacher after transferring in mid-semester.

When we get home, Charlie fixes lunch- turkey and cheese sandwiches with chips. We eat in silence until I declare my exhaustion and return to my room. I immediately collapse on my bed, soaking up what rest I can until I am woken hours later from a nightmare.

I roll over and look at the clock, four am. Not bad. I sneak down to the living room where Charlie's computer is and log in.

The bright light really irritates my throbbing head, but I persist, logging out of my father's iMessage and into mine. My fingers tremble as I go, but it's the not knowing that's really killing me.

Messages from my mother pop up.

7:39 pm: Where are you?

8:22 am: Your father called. You aren't welcome back here you ungrateful child.

8:22 am: Phil says your boyfriend has been here looking for you. Shame on you for treating your loved ones in such a careless way. Stay with Charlie if we were so terrible to you.

I wonder vaguely when my father called her, but I ignore the sting her word's leave on me as I exit to find the other messages awaiting me.

James has messaged me dozens of times in the past twenty-four hours. My chest pounds and I look around the dark room, as though to convince myself that I'm safe, and I'm still in Forks.

11:00 am: Answer your messages.

11:23 am: I called you, answer me Bella.

11:48 am: Isabella, if you do not answer me soon, I will come to you.

12:03 pm: Where are you?

12:09 pm: I'm going to kill you when I find you.

2:00 pm: Isabella, you stupid bitch, you do not ignore me. ANSWER ME.

I exit the program as fast as possible, then go back to log myself out. My hands are trembling so hard I can barely get the keys to work, and once I'm don't I scurry back to the safety of my room and lock the door.

I hope you enjoyed, feel free to leave feedback. I'll try and keep up with this, so make sure to follow along and see where the ride takes us.