A/N- This chapter is actually free of abuse, but we do have some self-loathing content. So this is the last chapter I had pre-written, so if there's a bit more of a gap between updates just know that I am checking stats and reviews daily and hanging on your every word! I'm sorry the chapters are so short, but I don't like combining POVs.

This chapter was once again Beta'd by Dollybigmomma who I am eternally grateful for.

Edward

When Edward got home after school, he went straight to his room and collapsed on his bed. Luckily, since he had driven alone that morning, he didn't have to endure the teasing he was sure would have come from some of his siblings, and the warnings that would have certainly come from the others. Well, the singular other.

It had always just been Emmett, Alice, and Edward, until their parents had decided to foster Rosalie and Jasper, eventually adopting them. The two had come to them after Bella had moved away, but before she had stopped visiting Forks during the summers.

Rosalie had been so stubborn and distant back then.

When she had first come to them, she had refused to speak to anyone besides Jasper, and even then, only when no one else was around. For months, none of the Cullens had even known what the young girl sounded like.

Rosalie had insisted that she and Jasper stay in the same room, despite the fact that Esme had set up separate rooms for them right across the hall from each other. Rose had refused to acknowledge Esme and Carlisle's existence, opting to stare stiffly into the distance when forced to be in their proximity.

She had been upset at the gentle, patient adults. She had believed that they were the ones responsible for taking Rosalie and Jasper from parents. She had despised them for it.

It didn't matter to Rosalie that her parents had treated her poorly, had hurt her and her brother in ways Edward still didn't know about, and suspected he never fully would. The issue was that Carlisle and Esme weren't her parents, as terrible as her parents had been.

Jasper was too curious to listen to her warnings, and eventually, he left their room, joining the Cullens for a movie night. Edward could still remember the look on the young Jasper's face when he had joined them for his first pizza and movie night with the family. His eyes were wide, and the Cullens collectively tried to act like it wasn't a big deal that Jasper was joining them. Well, except for Alice. She bounced, scooting sideways and patting the spot next to her, inviting him over.

At the end of the night, he had taken some pizza upstairs for Rosalie. Edward had later overheard Jasper begging her to stop giving him the silent treatment. If Rose hadn't had Jasper, she might still not be speaking to the rest of the family to this day. But over time, Jasper had pulled her out of the room, and he finally had gotten her talking to everyone else.

Eventually, when they had been with the Cullens for nearly seven months, Rosalie, who had warmed up in her own way, had announced at the dinner table that Esme and Carlisle were her parents now.

There had been no further comments, and it had been clear she was not taking any questions. From then on, she referred to the two as mom and dad. The Cullen kids, however, were not her siblings. Not really, not at that point. It was as though it was an eternal sleepover, at least in her mind. They were friends, but not siblings.

Alice was just happy to have another girl around, and permanently at that point, especially a girl who enjoyed more of the things she did. Alice and Rosalie painted nails, did their hair, played with makeup, and all those girly things. But whenever the boys tried to tease the girls about it, the two absolutely ruined whatever primping they had done to roughhouse whoever dared to insult them.

It was like Rose had filled for everyone else the empty spot that Bella had left. Another girl for Alice to relate to, a tough, roughhousing buddy for Emmett, and another pseudo child for their parents. But she didn't fill any role for Edward.

No, when Rosalie decided to join the family, he found himself at odds with her. She was quiet, but not in the way Edward and Bella had been together.

Edward had always felt like a bit of an outsider in his family, but at least with Bella, he hadn't been alone. With the addition of Rosalie and Jasper, it felt like Bella and Edward had both been replaced.

Whenever Bella had come to visit, Rosalie had been polite, but she had refused to be too friendly towards her. Alice always said that Rose was at capacity when it came to having people in her life. Despite the fact that they didn't get along, she cared about him, intensely, as she did for the rest of us,

When he was thirteen, and he had gotten that horrible email from Bella, Rosalie had been the first to notice the difference in him. The others had assumed it was like all the other times he preferred to be alone, and they had assumed he was reading, or composing, when in reality, he was brooding and trying his best to not think.

…

Edward was sitting in the music room. He had tried reading, but his eyes refused to read the words on the page; instead, thinking of other words. The words she had sent him. He tried to get the words out of his head, but they wouldn't go. He tried to get all the words out of his head, both good and bad, drowning himself in music. Normally, when he played, all other thoughts drifted away, and he got into an almost trance with music. But not today. Today, the music didn't come to him like it usually did. When he tried to let his fingers wander on the keys, there was only one tune they wanted to play. Her tune. The song he had told her he would name after her. While they had never landed on an official title, its name belonged to her.

A loud mash of notes sounded, as he slammed his hand down on the keys. Something he hadn't done since the early years of lessons, when his teacher had insisted he play what was on the page, and his fingers wouldn't listen. It wasn't fair to the piano, it was his hands that didn't listen to him, the piano only made the sounds he told it to.

It was him who was wrong. Not the piano. Never the piano. Me.

Me, me, me.

The door opened behind me and closed again. He didn't want to turn around. He wouldn't turn around.

He turned around.

Rosalie stood there; her arms crossed in front of her. Her lips were pursed, as they usually were. She'd recently begun wearing makeup regularly, and while she was skilled, it still looked odd on her. "I heard you abusing the piano again. You're not yourself. Tell me what's wrong." She didn't say anything else.

I tried to match her tone. Cool, uncaring. "Nothing is wrong. I just want to be alone. Please, go." He turned away from her, and to his surprise, she left without another word.

He returned to his piano, trying to play sheet music. His fingers stumbled, and the lack of flow meant the words in the email stayed, tumbling around his head, shame pouring into every inch of his body.

"You're a bad person, down to your core..."

"You think I could ever like someone like you…?"

"Pathetic, unlovable, rotten…"

Edward stopped playing, if only to avoid hitting the piano again. He began pacing, running his hands through his hair to keep them busy, pulling slightly in his frantic mood.

The door opened again, and he looked up. "Not NOW, Rosalie!" He nearly shouted, but she shut the door behind her once again. She didn't cower away from him; instead, she was staring him down as she approached him.

"She's wrong," Rosalie said with the calm rage she had mastered.

Edward froze, heat rushing to his face, and he felt his entire body grow clammy. He must've heard her wrong.

"Excuse me?" He said it quietly, as the only other option was shouting.

"Isabella Swan is wrong." Her voice was strong, as though she was daring him to disagree or try to stop her.

I looked her up and down now. Her eyes were full of fire, her hip jutted out under her fist. She poked her finger harshly into his chest, as she made him look her in the eyes, and enunciated carefully, "Isabella Swan is wrong. She's evil, she's cruel, and not a thing she wrote was true. Well, except maybe the crush part. "

The world shifted. It was like those scenes in movies where the character stayed the same size, but the world around him grew and grew. Despite the enormity of what she told him, he felt suddenly smaller, vulnerable. "You read my email?" His mouth was dry, and he tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat. He didn't know what exactly he was feeling. Anger for certain. Shame, absolutely. And a slight fear…perhaps. He was working his way into a spiral when she poked him again, harder.

"I read it, and then I deleted it…" she stopped him when he tried to interrupt her, "…and I will not be apologizing. You're not pathetic, you're not a bad person, you're not rotten, or unlovable, or any of the other nasty things that bitch said!"

With each statement, Rosalie took a step forward, and he took a step back. "That girl is dead to us, and I refuse to let you think otherwise. She isn't your friend anymore, and she wasn't one when she wrote those lies." On her last step, he found himself pushed against his piano bench, which he sat back on before he fell.

Her eyes were nearly on fire, and there was no kindness in her words. Just cold honesty. Despite her rage, and her nearly attacking him, there was a sort of calm in him.

Edward didn't know if he entirely believed her, but Rose's fierce look was honest. She really believed he wasn't the embarrassment Bella had made him out to be. Even if Rose was wrong.

…

It was a good thing it had all happened at thirteen. If it had been a few years later, he might have drowned his grief in the alcohol Emmett had started sneaking in. Though, it was probably the worst time for it to happen, in terms of how much it hurt. At thirteen, it was humiliating to be acknowledged at all, but to have it turned back on him was the worst feeling he had ever had. He still cringed sometimes when he thought of it. And, in his darkest times, he heard the words and couldn't entirely disagree, despite Rosalie's insistent denial of their truth.

Rosalie would likely start her anti-Bella campaign as soon as she could, and if he didn't listen, the best-case scenario would be the silent treatment, which he would gladly take.

Was he really still upset at Bella? Had he been telling the truth when he had told Rose that he didn't want to be friends with her again? Despite Rosalie's work, he still sometimes remembered Bella fondly, untainted by the horrible email she had gone on to write. There was no chance that he would be able to be friends with Bella anyway. She had probably changed. He had probably changed too much. He didn't know if he would ever be able to forgive or forget.

I went about his homework slower than usual, his mind trying to play over every facet of the new Bella he had seen. She was skinny, painfully so. Mom had always told us they shouldn't comment on other people's bodies, and she was right, but he couldn't help it. He was concerned for Bella. She had always been one to have a bit more baby fat when they were kids, even when she had spent her whole summers running through the woods and playing with us. Of course, losing her baby fat was normal, but it didn't seem like that was it. The circles under her eyes also looked way too dark, nearly permanent. Certainly not the work of one or two days of little sleep, like most of the other students.

In Biology, Bella seemed to not even notice he was there. If it hadn't been for his siblings, he would have thought he had made her up. Though, not Bella, but some echo of her former self. He hadn't seen her since they had been so much younger, and occasionally, he had imagined what she would look like now. He had been so, so wrong.

Edward ended up so lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the passing of time. He barely noticed it had grown nearly dark out until mom called us to dinner. He went down dutifully, but remained the distracted mess he'd been all day There was some conversation that he couldn't make himself follow, until he heard Alice say, "Edward, are you going to tell her, or should I?"

I looked up from his plate, lost. Alice, obviously exasperated with his lack of attention, said, "The -ahem- new student?" while looking at him expectantly. Mom's eyes bounced back and forth between us, trying to be patient, but clearly wanting to be let in on the secret.

Clearing his throat, he said plainly, "Oh, uh, Bella Swan moved back, I guess." she'd tried to sound casual, but his tone did nothing to prevent the full meaning from reaching their mom.

Her face absolutely lit up, and he looked down at his plate again. They had never told her about the email, at least not in enough detail. Rose had sworn Emmett, Alice, and Jasper to secrecy, with an intensity that was sure to have lasting power. She thought they would try to rationalize it, try to keep the friendship alive. Esme had noticed the change in him after the email, but no one had told her why. She thought Bella and Edward had a slow break, like they had just casually fallen out of touch. Maybe that was what would have occurred, had that awful email not happened.

Mom clapped her hands together in front of her chest, her eyes beaming. "Oh, that's wonderful! How is she? Will she finish high school here?" She looked at him, clearly a million more questions swimming behind her eyes.

I looked around quickly, hoping one of the others would jump in to save him, and luckily, Alice obliged. "We don't know, really, we haven't spoken to her too much yet, school and all, but I plan on asking her everything tomorrow." Her tone held mischief, and it was a wonder that their mother didn't notice the fury in Rosalie's eyes.

"Well, you'll have to invite her over for dinner sometime!" She sounded so excited, but luckily, she changed topics quickly, sparing him from the emotional turmoil of it all. "How was everyone else's first day back?" The prattle resumed, and he stayed quiet for the rest of the meal.

As soon as he felt it was appropriate, he excused himself, saying something about the makeup work he had to do. However, as soon as he made it to his room, he put on headphones, turning up whatever music he had ready to play. He tried to will himself into forgetting about Bella, just for now, but his brain just wouldn't shut up.

I found himself untold hours later, lying the wrong way on his bed, his legs dangling off the end. It was long after he should have finished his homework, but most of it remained untouched. None of it was due tomorrow, a fact which normally wouldn't stop him from completing it, but he just couldn't focus.

My mind kept playing through different scenarios, trying to imagine how he could talk to Bella. She would remember him, right? He didn't know what he wanted to happen, instead, worrying about every outcome. Even if she did remember him, and they became friends again, that email would always sit in his mind.

I hadn't thought of its words in a while, though it was the mantra of every breakdown she'd had since receiving it. Now that he had seen her again, he was reminded repeatedly of the hateful words his best friend had flung at him.

I had the sudden urge to run, the restless energy in him begging to be quelled. It was too late, and too dark to run, and anyway, he knew he didn't have the stamina he once had. His physical energy would wane far before his mental energy would. What he really needed was a drive.

Popping up, he grabbed his keys and left a note in his room in case anyone checked. He didn't want to let anyone know he was leaving, as it would only draw attention to his distress, but being "missing" would be far worse.

Went on a drive. I'm ok. Be home soon.

Edward moved down the stairs as quickly and as stealthily as he could, thankful that everyone seemed to be too consumed with their own lives to notice he was leaving. He pulled out of the garage carefully, not turning on the lights, just in case they hadn't heard the engine. Edward maneuvered by memory, instinct, and the light of the moon, until his headlights were facing down the driveway. He could already feel his nervous energy being harnessed, fading, as he sped off into the night.