A Constant in The Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Two - Let These Walls Come Tumbling Down

Darlings,

I love you. That is all.

A special hello and thank you to pumpkin_ball and mugglemom08 for sharing their reading journey with me…big hugs to you ladies.

Thank you again, Edwardville, for letting me blog with yous guys! It was such great fun!

n7of9 is my lovely beta, there is no one greater,

Her red pen is utterly epic, and without her, this story would be totally septic.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

...

EPOV

The moment I heard Bella's voice I knew something was wrong. I was in the kitchen pilfering the fridge when I heard the phone ring. There was an eerie calm in her tone that caused the hairs on my neck to prickle and filled me with an unbearable dread, the terror bursting in my veins and flooding straight to my limbs. It was Sunday and Carlisle just happened to be home so I rushed up the stairs to find him in his office.

"Something's wrong with Charlie. Bella said they're sending over a unit." My voice curdled with panic and Carlisle stood up at once, grabbed his bag and fled down the stairs. Alice, who had been reading in her room, ran into the hall to meet me.

"What's going on?" she had asked, her face strained and pale. Her hands clutched her cards, the silk scarf tangled in her fingers.

"Charlie," I said quickly, not having the time to explain. I ran down the stairs, Alice close behind, and I grabbed our coats from the hall closet, tossing Alice hers. We hopped into the Mercedes, Carlisle already behind the wheel and backing out of the driveway as the doors slammed shut.

The weather was horrible, an opaque wall of rain and fog, and it took us nearly twice as long as it would have normally because we had to go so fucking slow. There was an ambulance parked outside Charlie's house as well as a squad car, the red and orange lights reflecting off the pavement as the brilliant splash of color smeared in the flooded street.

We ran into the house, quickly surveying the downstairs area and finding it vacant. I ran up the stairs first and found a shaking, nearly naked Bella standing in the doorframe. Her hair was damp and sticking to her face and forming loops across her chest and back, a towel wrapped loosely around her shivering body, her bare feet pressed into the wooden floor. Her lips quivered, blue and taught, and dark circles encompassed her puffy eyes. I covered her with my coat and wrapped my arms around her as Carlisle and Alice pushed past us into the room just as a medic I recognized from the hospital, I think his name was Sam or something, was calling it in.

Carlisle inspected Charlie's body, pulling up his eyelids, looking for indicators of the cause, I guess, and I found myself wondering how he could do that, how he could be so close to the body of his friend and not be overwhelmed with emotion. It was part of his job, I knew, but I developed a whole new level of respect for Carlisle in that moment, realizing that he put his obligation to others before his own needs. Alice stood sobbing, shaking her hands as she cried out loud. I knew the thoughts screaming through her brain; I knew them because they paralleled my own.

Our mother on a bed, a knife wound in her chest, a trail of blood upon her lips. She looked like she could have been sleeping, her face quiet and blank, similar to the expression on Charlie's face now. I couldn't suppress the agony building within me and even though I wanted to resist, I had to look.

As the medic said the words over the radio, I settled my gaze on the bed, but instead of Charlie I saw my mother, the ruby trail oozing from her lips, and I felt the influx of emotion hit me like a fucking freight train as I relived that day almost three years ago. A sob welled in my chest and caused my body to shake as the memories poured into me. It was all so eerily similar, the paramedics in the corner, the bed raped of its clothes, my sister crying over an expired body in the middle of the mattress, and I had to fight the torment rising within me. I wanted to run from the room, hide some place and just cry my fucking eyes out. The sight was too familiar to stomach, awakening sentiments I had long ago silenced, thoughts I had laid to rest. But Bella needed me and so I held her, my poor sweet Bella, I held her up, fully aware of the heartache she was about to endure, the realization she was about to come to, and I only hoped my proximity would absorb some of the shock.

Sam, the medic, was going to tell her now and I readied myself for the collision.

"Miss?" he said, trying to get her attention. He wiped at his face, trying to be professional, but the emphatic sadness overwhelmed his features. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but we were unable to revive your father. It looks as if he had been gone for quite a while, at least twelve hours, probably from cardiac arrest. We've called in a coroner and they will be able to give you more information. It's important that you don't disturb the body before the coroner gets here."

Fuck! Twelve hours? Twelve hours ago I was giving Bella our apartment. Twelve hours ago Bella was naked in my bedroom. Twelve hours ago Charlie was going into cardiac arrest and he had been alone. I felt the burn in my eyes, the tears streaming down my face as I thought of what this was going to do to Bella. This was going to be bad, the guilt was going to kill her, destroy her, and all I wanted to do was take her into my arms and push it all away.

I just held her, fucking cursing the goddamn planet, cursing whatever Gods were listening, cursing Charlie for not taking care of himself in the first place, cursing the fucking paramedics, even thought I knew there was nothing they could have done. Finally, more vehemently than the rest, I cursed myself. I hadn't wanted to bring her home, I had begged her to stay, thought of every excuse to not let her go. I am such a fucking selfish asshole. Now her dad was dead, fucking dead, and Bella would be forever altered by this, her perfectly pure soul marred further, and I hadn't let her go home.

The medic also mentioned that there would be an investigation, pretty standard shit. He said there were some police officers downstairs who needed to ask Bella some questions and with Charlie's notoriety in this community, it was probably going to be a lengthy process. But Bella was trembling, her skin freezing to the touch, and she needed warmth, she needed to get dressed.

I pulled her face to my chest, tightening my arms around the shaking, wet body in front of me. She hadn't responded, her mind numb and wandering. Her deep brown eyes shone vacant and wide and I thought maybe she was going into shock. Her body was unresponsive to my touch and to my words but then she inhaled deeply, finally acknowledging my presence as she looked up at me, her eyes swollen and thick with grief.

"Edward?" Bella mumbled, her face contemplative and serene. "Your eyes look like Christmas." My heart wrenched open at that little phrase, the muscle gaping and flooding with sadness for this girl, my girl, because she hadn't put it together yet. She hadn't understood and it was going to have to be explained, I was going to have to tell her that her father was dead.

"Bella, come on. You have to put some clothes on. Your skin is like ice," I responded, trying to pull her into her bedroom but she resisted.

"No, they're waking Charlie up," she said frantically, her words throbbing in my chest. I felt the sting in my eyes again and a pounding in my head as I searched for the words that would help her understand.

"He's not going to wake up Bella," I choked out, holding her face in my hands and staring into her dark eyes. "Charlie's gone."

"Gone, like dead gone?" she whispered, pulling away from me and moving into the bedroom, her eyes finally settling on the scene before us.

Carlisle was comforting my sister. Alice was still sobbing, grieving for Bella stripped of her father, and for Charlie stripped of his chance at redemption. She grieved for our own parents all over again, for her lost childhood, stripped of her innocence in knowing this pain so young, and heartsick that Bella had to know this pain as well.

Bella took it all in, her gaze appraising what was happening, what had already transpired, and I saw her silently collapse, vomit expelling from her lips as she crouched on the floor, her body frail and weak as she accepted the reality, her brain forming the connection.

I lifted her sobbing frame quickly from the floor and carried her to her room. I placed her gently on her bed and she didn't move, just cried aloud, her body frozen in a state of anguish. Her eyes were clenched shut, her face twisted as she fought to breathe, her chest heaving in panicked gasps. I quickly got some clothes from her dresser drawer, pulling underwear up her freezing legs and covering them in sweats. I pulled the towel and jacket away, lifting her torso so I could pull the old flannel shirt, the one she always wore to bed, over her head and covering her exposed skin, pulling her limp arms through the oversized top.

I curled around her on the bed, wrapping her body in mine, and just held her, allowing her sorrow to become my sorrow, allowing her to feel the loss, to mourn the loss of not only her father but of the life she was slowly regaining with him.

She clutched at my t-shirt, the cloth between her fingers. Her breathing calmed and her sobs eased as she looked onto my face, her chocolate eyes swimming with fear and reluctance. "Charlie's dead, Edward," she mumbled, agony still in her gentle voice. "He's gone."

"Shhhh, I know Bella." I ran my fingers through her hair as the admittance brought on a wave of fresh despair, her eyes filling with cascading tears as she shook her head, her lips emitting a low moan, and I cried along with her, unable to find anything that I could provide as comfort. I didn't know what to say to her or what else to do, so I kept her constantly wrapped and with my touch upon her as she succumbed to the depths of despondency.

Alice ventured into Bella's room a few moments later and pulled the comforter over our entwined legs. She sat beside Bella on the bed and ran her fingers through Bella's hair as tears slipped between her swollen lids, her black hair dampened from the rain still storming outside.

Two police officers stood outside Bella's door and wanted to ask her questions but I told them to get the fuck out, that she would answer questions when she was damn ready and able. They were pretty compliant, probably upset themselves to see their colleague spread out and lifeless. I think Carlisle must have appeased them in some way because they didn't bother us again for a while. The coroner came to examine Charlie and then they took him away, four men hauling his large body down the stairs, zipped up in a black bag; and then Charlie was gone.

Bella still clenched her eyes shut, refusing to open them, refusing to break her grasp on my t-shirt. She wasn't asleep because she'd mutter something once in a while: she'd ask me what was going on, what they were doing, where they were taking him, and I answered the best I could. She'd comment on the rain outside, she talked about how she had just made his bed and that they had gone and tore it to shreds, all the while her face pressed into my shirt with her eyes closed, and I was scared for her, worried about what this was going to do to her already fragile health. I knew how easy it would be for her to slip back into that fasting mentality. When my parents had died I too wouldn't eat, especially during my destructive phrase. I let myself waste away, sustaining myself on drugs and alcohol, and it wasn't until Carlisle made us go to those cooking classes that I found something to live for, something nurturing to feed my soul.

Carlisle appeared in the doorway. "Edward? They need to ask Bella some standard questions. They really can't wait any longer."

I nodded and brought my lips to Bella's head, and she stirred beneath my arms. "Bella? Bella, they need to ask you some questions. About Charlie." I murmured into her cheek. She moved her face away from my shirt, her eyes struggling to open as she strained through the swollen lids. Her eyes met mine, the sorrow pulling at her every expression, and she nodded, pulling the comforter around her as she moved to a seated position.

Carlisle left briefly and returned with two police officers, portraits of dejection as they inquired of the death of their superior, their chief. What time did you get home? Where were you? Were you the last person to see Charlie last night? Did he seem okay? Bella answered them all with simple and to the point statements, but she faltered at the next question.

"Did you check on him when you got home?" one of the police officers had asked.

"I…I did…He was asleep. How long has he been…um, when…when did it happen?" She asked, her eyes welling with tears again.

"We can't determine the exact time of death until there's been an official examination, but the coroner estimated time of death sometime between two and four this morning. You said you arrived home shortly after five, was there any indication that Charlie was alive at that time?" the cop asked her, writing on a small notepad.

"I don't know. I came home…and the TV was on but he was asleep. I just thought he was asleep. I didn't want to wake him up, so I went to bed." Bella started shaking again as the realization of what had happened this morning slowly began to make sense and I wanted to stop it from happening, pull her back to where we could push it all away and curl up under her comforter like we had so many times before.

"He was…oh my God, Edward," Bella gripped my arm with both hands. "This morning…when I got home, he was…and I just left him there." Again, her eyes spilled over, silent tears across her face. Alice wrapped her arm around Bella's shoulders as the police officers continued their questioning. They wanted to know all the medications he was taking and whether or not he had been taking them regularly, and they roughly deemed the cause of death to be natural causes, probably another heart attack. They said that the body was being taken to the hospital morgue to be examined and then they would release it to the funeral home. Bella just sat there, silent tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin onto the comforter pulled across her lap. Her hands still clutched at my arm, frozen, and I could see her going numb all over, shut down as she listened to them speak. I could see the vacancy in her eyes and felt a stillness in her body and I feared this more than hysterics. At least with hysterics I knew what she was thinking. As she sat there, still and void, I had no fucking clue what poisonous thoughts could be running marathons in her brain.

"Is there somewhere you can stay? You shouldn't be alone tonight," one of the officers said.

Before Bella could answer I spoke for her, "She'll stay with us. She's not alone."

The officers quickly left after that, telling Bella that someone would be contacting her shortly with more information. One of them placed a business card on her dresser before asking for information concerning the service, saying that the police department would want to be involved, going on and on about what an asset Charlie was to the community, how he was revered and a hero and would be missed. Bella just nodded, her eyes closing as she listened to his prattle. I knew he had good intentions, but shit, couldn't he see what this was doing to her? I was about to lose it and tell him to shut the fuck up when they turned and left the room, the silence heavy in their wake.

Carlisle came to sit at the foot of the bed. "Bella, you should come stay with us. You can have the guest bedroom downstairs until we figure things out."

Bella looked up sharply. "What's there to figure out?" she asked.

"There will be business to attend to. A service and a burial, and you'll have to talk to your father's lawyer concerning his will and the legalities of it all, and there's this house and, well, you're only eighteen Bella, you shouldn't have to deal with this on your own." Carlisle was trying to be as gentle as possible; the impending responsibilities were monumental and he knew that Bella was going to need help.

And then it hit me, what Carlisle really meant. Charlie was the whole reason Bella was in Forks and at that moment thousands of questions and scenarios pummeled my brain, each of them meandering and depending on other information, information I didn't have at this time. Would she go to live with her mom? Would her mom make her leave Forks? Would she stay with us, at Carlisle's? Would she stay at Charlie's? I couldn't even begin to fathom how this was going to change things, but there it was, the shift had already begun to occur, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I felt heat rising within me and panic began to pound in my chest and I looked at Bella, awaiting her response.

"Thank you, Carlisle. Really, that's very generous, but I just want to stay here for a while, if that's okay?" she mumbled. Carlisle sighed and I could tell he didn't like this response, but he nodded.

"Okay, but Esme will want to come by later, I'm sure, and we can bring you anything that you need. And don't hesitate to come over or call when you need to, whenever you feel like it," Carlisle pressed. Bella nodded and smiled slightly, exhaustion weary upon her eyelids.

Alice got up from her seat. "We'll be back too Bella, me and Jasper, soon as he gets home from work." She leaned over and kissed Bella on the temple before following Carlisle out of the room.

Bella looked at me now and I didn't know what she was expecting, but there was no way in hell I was leaving this house. "I'm not going anywhere," I said, laying back on her bed and pushing my legs under the covers. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her down to lay with me.

"I know," she responded, turning her face into my chest. She was quiet for a while, laying with her head on my chest as my fingers ran up and down her back, the light thudding of the rain still sloshing against the roof. I thought maybe she had fallen asleep, but then she spoke.

"How could he do this to me Edward?" Her fingers twisted into my t-shirt again, the material pulling against my chest. "How could he leave me like this?"

I couldn't answer at first, a wicked case of déjà vu fucking with my mind; that unnatural, creepy as shit feeling like I'd been here before caused goosebumps to spread across my arms. I had lived this moment before, I had wondered the same thing, voiced the same fucking words in a different room, curled on a different bed, a different set of arms intent on comfort. But it was the same nonetheless.

As the eerie wave engulfed and then passed, I was able to respond.

"Charlie's heart just couldn't carry the burden anymore, Bella. Charlie didn't want to leave, his body just gave up," I said gently.

"But he was fine! He cooked all that food just two nights ago. He made me fucking pancakes yesterday, Edward. He made me pancakes!" She was grasping at my shirt now, angry cries spilling from her lips.

"I didn't even get to tell him that I remembered him. I remembered it all and I didn't even get to tell him. It's just fucking bullshit! Goddamn, fucking bullshit." She sobbed against my chest, the tears seeping through my shirt and dampening my skin underneath. The rest of the afternoon passed this way, Bella asking questions and not really looking for answers. I just held her and listened, offering little bits of reassurance where I could: if she wanted to cry I let her cry, if she wanted to yell I let her yell, and when she wanted to sit in silence I let her do that too. I accepted it all because I knew that nothing I could offer right now was going to make any sense, none of it would help.

Esme and Carlisle arrived later that evening bringing a vegetable casserole. Bella pushed the food around on her plate, slowly taking small bites and hardly eating anything at all. Emmett and Rose then Alice and Jasper filled the downstairs living room, watching television and playing cards. Bella didn't leave her bedroom, but she wasn't alone; instead of Bella going to stay with my family, my family came to stay with her.

They left late into the night except for Alice and Jasper, who slept downstairs on the couch. Bella didn't sleep much that night, just lay in her bed while I played with her hair. She was quiet, no longer crying but not talking either, swimming in a pool of thought. The rain splattered against the shingles outside her window and I think I fell asleep before she did, dozing off for a few hours in the warm, comfortable bed.

That morning I awoke to find Bella sitting in the wooden rocking chair by her bedroom window, her legs pulled into her chest, the long flannel shirt sleeves dangling from the fingers wrapped around her knees. She slightly rocked in the chair, watching the rain trail paths on the glass.

"Hey," I said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I had slept in my clothes, the jeans uncomfortably restricting and twisted around my legs. Bella looked at me startled, as if being called from a trance, but she smiled, her swollen eyes worn, the dark circles overwhelming her tired face.

I left the bed and walked over to her, placing a kiss on her forehead before going to use the restroom. I washed my face, running wet fingers through my hair, and rinsed my mouth with water from the tap as I tried to make myself presentable.

Bella was still in the rocking chair when I returned, her head leaning against her knees. I pulled her hair away from her face, using my fingers to gently comb through the tangles and weaving the strands together down her back. Her eyes closed as I fastened the end of the braid with a hair tie I had pocketed from the bathroom. She didn't say anything but I saw the tears beading in the corners of her eyes. I kissed her wet lids, salt upon my lips as she wrapped her arms around my waist, her cheek resting against my stomach, a mumbled thank you whispered from her lips.

I inhaled the wafting aroma of eggs drifting upstairs. Bella looked at me inquisitively as I kissed her lips, leaving her in the rocking chair to see who had assumed the cooking duties today. I walked down the stairs to find Alice still asleep on the couch, a light snore coming from her lips. To my utter shock, I found Jasper at the stove, the broken shells messy in the carton on the counter and a spatula in his hand as he pushed the scrambled eggs around in the pan. Toast popped from the toaster startling me as Jasper turned around to remove the bread, freezing in his position as he saw me staring at him dumbfounded from the doorway, a showdown of sorts, as he appraised the surprise upon my face.

I wasn't pissed or anything, at least I didn't think I was. I'll admit it, I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to cooking, but it was just strange to see Jasper, of all people, cooking breakfast in my girlfriend's dead father's kitchen.

"I was hungry," he said warily. "I thought you guys might be too."

"Thanks," I responded after a pause. "I didn't know you could cook."

"I can't. This is the extent of it, eggs and toast. I can make quesadillas and nachos too, but those aren't really breakfast foods," Jasper said, shrugging his shoulders and moving back to the pan.

I pulled the plates from the cabinet as Jasper removed the pan from the heat. He slid some of the eggs onto three of the plates and I pulled the toast from the toaster, smearing a small amount of margarine onto the warm, crisp bread. I carried two plates up to Bella's room and handed one to her as she still sat in the rocking chair, and sat myself on the edge of her bed.

"Jasper made you breakfast," I said before taking a bite of the eggs. Not bad, as scrambled eggs go. Then again, I didn't know how you could possibly fuck up scrambled eggs.

Bella quirked an eyebrow at me, pondering this development just as I had. She glanced at her plate and sighed before picking up the fork to take a small bite. She nibbled a little on the toast, mainly just tearing the bread to pieces, camouflaging the food to make it look used. I knew what she was doing but I didn't say anything. I also knew bitching from me was the last thing Bella needed to hear right now.

Charlie's lawyer came to the house that morning to discuss the will. Charlie had been a cop in Forks for, like, twenty years or something, and he had invested in his future wisely. I sat with Bella in the living room, the flannel still around her shoulders as she listened to the fat, balding man discuss Charlie's assets. In addition to his pension, Charlie had also taken out a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar life insurance policy when he joined the force. He made his last mortgage payment five years ago, had zero debt, and three hefty bank accounts, one of which was in Bella's name, not to mention numerous other investments: 401K, IRA, mutual funds, stocks, a proud investment portfolio hidden behind a lonely and simple man whose only material possessions included various fishing equipment. I mean, shit, he didn't even have a nice car.

When it was all said and done, Charlie had been sitting on just over half a million dollars, and had specifically stated on each account that there was only one beneficiary: Isabella Marie Swan. Charlie's will was simple: everything goes to Bella, and bury me at that cemetery that runs along the river.

Half a million dollars. Bella just sat there, her fingers folded in her lap, her brown eyes flat. She thanked the lawyer for his assistance and went back to her room. Esme and Alice volunteered to organize the service, preparing to carry out the wishes as described in Charlie's will. They involved the police department, his numerous colleagues and life long acquaintances eager to help out, and planned the memorial service and burial for Friday, New Years Eve.

Bella called her mother to tell her the news and to give her information about the service. I sat there holding her hand while she struggled through the conversation, then hung up the phone and curled into a ball.

"She bought a plane ticket for Thursday. She's going to stay here with me. She's fucking coming to Forks," she had said, her arms clutching around her stomach.

I didn't know how I felt about this development, my stomach just as twisted as Bella's. I didn't know how Bella's mom would influence her behavior, if she would act differently around her. I knew that her mom being here meant I probably wouldn't be able to stay with her, she wouldn't really need me, and I didn't know if I could handle that. I just felt fucking helpless, a bunch of factors tugging on me that were beyond my control, and I was pissed off and scared and feeling like shit because of it.

The rain had passed, finally, but the cold remained, coating the pavement in shining ice, the rainwater frozen over and gleaming like glass. That night we started taking down the Christmas tree. It had been up for a month now and was dangerously becoming a fire hazard. Alice, Jasper and I pulled the bulbs from the dead branches, the brittle needles snapping and gathering around our feet. I pulled the angel from the top of the tree, wrapping it in a plastic bag and placing it in a large tote Alice had bought this afternoon. She had been spending her time here trying to help as best she could: washing Charlie's used dishes in the sink, organizing and piling all of Charlie's things into his room, stacking fishing equipment and sports magazines, pulling his clothing from the dryer and closets, removing any trace of him from downstairs, and had now moved on to the upstairs bathroom. She didn't want Bella to have to sort through the constant reminders of Charlie: his wallet tossed on the kitchen counter, grocery lists scribbled onto scraps of paper, half finished fishing lures on the coffee table. She figured if it was all centralized in one room, Bella could go through it at her own pace when she was ready.

Jasper and I were putting the living room back together when we heard Bella yelling from upstairs. I couldn't understand what she was shouting, so I ran up the stairs. Alice was standing in the hallway, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I just thought it would be easier, I thought it would help." Alice was blubbering as I stepped into the bathroom to find Bella crouched on the floor clutching Charlie's aftershave and soap, her arms overflowing with toiletries as tears streamed down her face.

I pulled her to stand, loosening the items from her fingers, his toothbrush and razor falling to the floor with a clatter as she dissolved into my arms, clutching at her hair and gasping for air, her face twisted as the guilt infested grief washed over her once again.

"It's okay, Bella. It's okay," I whispered, carrying her back to her room.

This is how the next few days passed, Bella vacillating back and forth from emotionless stone to collapsed hysterics. No apologies were made, Alice completely accepting of the fact that Bella wasn't in a rational state of mind right now. Bella barely spoke, she wouldn't eat, she hardly slept, and I was beginning to lose my mind, her face sallow and stressed as she shifted back and forth from the bed to the rocking chair, never removing the flannel, her hair pulled back in a fresh braid every day. We practically had to force her to take a shower and she had spent forty minutes just standing under the warm stream; her sobs could be heard through the door and twice I went in to check if she was okay. If only she would tell me what she was thinking, what was spilling through her mind, maybe I could help. Lord knows I'd had my share of experience, but she kept it all to herself, selfish with her thoughts and, fuck, how I longed to take them from her.

The downstairs had been invested with cards and flowers, baskets of food, casseroles and pies, just shit fucking everywhere. Billy Black and the Clearwaters had been over twice and some people from the station stopped by to see if Bella needed anything. She was polite, but kindly dismissed them, venturing back up to her room and immersing herself in music or sitting in the rocking chair staring out the window. My family had been here every night, all of them. Emmett and Rose had changed their plans and weren't heading back to Pullman until after the service. Esme was busy making arrangements for Saturday, making programs and organizing speeches. She was trying to keep it simple but it seemed the entire town wanted to be a part of this thing. Needless to say, Charlie's house, Bella's house now, was pretty packed with people most of the time, but Bella stayed in her room, isolation her consolation, hidden from the world spinning around her.

Bella stayed in her room - that is, until her mother arrived.

…

BPOV

I was pretty sure I was drowning. I couldn't breathe, my breath suffocating in my chest, the tight space already consumed by my throbbing heart. I couldn't speak, everything coming out all garbled and mumbled, I didn't even know if I was making sense half the time. My head pounded with a crippling ache behind my eyes every time I opened them, and I preferred the darkness when I clenched my lids shut. And I was wet, tears streaming down my face, snot running from my nose, the cotton my face had been embedded in for the last twenty four hours sopping and cool, just another piece of evidence to suggest that I was submerged. Yes, I was drowning, and I had no desire to break the surface, no desire to pull myself to safety.

I couldn't believe this was happening, couldn't understand what had gone wrong, what I had done wrong. I spent my silences trying to figure this out, what I could have done better, how I could have done more. I should have come home earlier, should have helped more with Christmas Eve dinner, should have made him exercise. There had to have been something that I could have done to prevent this. But I had failed. I took the one task that karma had offered me and I had fucking failed.

The worst part of it all was that I never got the chance to forgive him. I never learned the truth, I never got the chance to understand my father, to know him, and now it was too late. I'd never be able to say sorry, I'd never get my dramatic declaration of acceptance or begging for forgiveness or even the yelling and screaming of accusations. I'd never see him again. They carried his body out the door in a big black bag and I couldn't even watch him go.

My only comfort was that familiar scent, Edward's scent. I forced myself to stay here, enveloped in that sweet summer sun, a flagrant contrast to the elements tormenting the world outside my window.

I knew they were there. I could hear them talking around me, the television always on downstairs, but I couldn't acknowledge them yet, afraid the coursing pain would again smother me, so I lay still with his arms wrapped around me and his fingers pulling through my hair. I couldn't stop the thoughts, though, the "what if's" and the "if only's", so I stopped thinking altogether. "Blackness, blackness dragging me down…"

I knew no hunger nor exhaustion and eventually I went numb, all thought and emotion compartmentalized. I answered their questions, yes's and no's, telling myself it wasn't real. When a question popped into my head, I asked it, and he was there to listen with loving caresses and reassuring words, he did everything he could to make this easier. I remembered that he too had suffered this loss, he knew my anguish, so I let myself accept his comfort.

So many faces came and I forced myself through the interactions. A lawyer came to spew a bunch of senseless shit but all I remembered was that Charlie was loaded and he left it all to me. It was like some sick joke, this money. It was all I had ever craved, to be cared for by Charlie, and now, in death, he would support me for as long as I maintained his investments. I almost wanted to puke as this lawyer discussed Charlie's money, acting like I should be excited and rejoicing for the increase in funds, but I just couldn't wait for him to get the fuck out of the house.

I called my mom, disbelief in her faded voice. She wanted lots of details but I couldn't give them to her. I didn't want her to be a part of this life, my life with Charlie, and I almost asked her to stay away. But I didn't because I knew she wouldn't. She was flying in on Thursday. She was going to meet Edward, see Charlie's house, and the thought of her here, sitting on his couch and touching his stuff made me sick to my stomach.

And then there was the incident with Alice in the bathroom. She was cleaning out Charlie's toiletries, his toothbrush and razor, his aftershave and soap in her hands. I don't know what came over me but I was enraged, almost jealous that she knew this smell now, a smell I couldn't let go of, a smell I didn't want to share. I snapped at her and tears welled in her eyes and I immediately felt horrible for making her cry, for yelling at her after everything that she had been doing. I felt horrible knowing I would never again know this smell, the aftershave on my father's smooth and freshly fragrant face, and I crumbled, a heaping mess on the floor as I clutched those small parts of my father to my chest, a part of him I had spent so many years trying to find and simultaneously trying to forget. Just like his flannel wrapped around me, these smells made me feel close to him, and I was slowly realizing that I'd never be close to him again.

Each day melded into the next. Esme would ask me questions about the memorial service to get my approval and I would go back to lying in bed or rocking in that chair, that fucking rocking chair where Charlie sat to play the guitar. He wouldn't have even fit in that chair now but I found myself making a list of all the shit we could have done. I wished I could remember the last time he had played the guitar for me. It never failed, he had this uncanny ability to sit down with his guitar at the most inopportune moment and my mom would always roll her eyes, shout at us for dinner, or to get in the car or whatever other task we were avoiding with the lyrical loitering. Sometimes she'd just leave, his ever present indifference grating on her nerves, and I understood now why she'd been so frustrated, but still this is the memory I had, not the fucking dinner we had eaten cold or the grocery store trip we were late for, but my father in this chair with his guitar. "Constant stranger, you're a brute, you're an angel, you can crawl, you can fly too…

I'm not sure how many days passed. All I knew was that my mom was arriving on Thursday and then the service would be on Friday. Renee was on an early morning flight from Jacksonville, at least a six hour trip. I wasn't even sure when her flight was getting in to Seattle, but when Edward came into the room to tell me Renee was on her way from the airport, I kind of panicked. I quickly got out of bed, threw on my jeans and ran to the bathroom to pull a brush through my hair. It was all crimpy from being tied back in a braid, adding volume, and combined with the static electricity from lying in bed all day, it poofed out in ridiculous waves. I wrapped it back into a bun and sighed at the dark circles under my eyes. Shit, she was going to have a fucking field day with the state of my appearance.

The Cullens were in my living room, all of them except Jasper and Carlisle, whom I assumed were working. Rose and Emmett were on the couch, Rosalie reading a magazine, her belly still hidden beneath an oversized sweater over leggings. Emmett was snacking on some chips, a football game on the television, the Cullen crest prominently displayed as my Christmas gift stretched across his chest. He quickly moved to turn off the television as I entered the room. I sighed, appreciating the gesture but at the same time irritated for the eggshells, like I was going to turn into a blubbering mess because of something on TV, like they needed to act differently around me because I might break. This irritation quickly became self-directed, though, as I accepted how realistic that possibility was.

Alice sat in one of the chairs, jeans and a t-shirt around her small frame and her hair curled around her ears, a thick black headband pulled around her hairline. Next to the headband, her hair looked brownish and faded, the copper roots shining through, like she had been neglecting the color. I was shocked a bit at her casual appearance but that was quickly trumped by my shock at how spotless the living room was. The tree had been taken down and a small stab ached in my chest. I had wanted to clean up some of Charlie's stuff downstairs, like I owed it to him to hide the little bit of him that I knew from Renee. Instead, I found that it had already been done for me. Alice had moved all his belongings to his room for me and my eyes filled with tears when I thought of how I had yelled at her earlier in the week. Everything had been taken care of for me, the house was cleaned and the service planned as I had sat in my room, and from beyond the gaping hole that now invaded my soul, a tiny sliver of admiration and gratitude began to warm my chest.

Esme was at the kitchen table, a cell phone to her ear as she scribbled on a notepad. I overheard her conversation, the memorial service being discussed. Apparently, Edward had okayed a caterer and Esme was ironing out the details for tomorrow's ordeal. I closed my eyes to tune her out as I retreated to the living room, taking a seat in the chair next to Alice as Edward made me a veggie sandwich. I didn't have the heart to tell him I couldn't eat it. I tried, but my stomach twisted and cringed as the bread and veggies invaded the vacant space, and I didn't want to puke so I just didn't eat it. I pulled it apart and took small bites of the bread and tomato but the matter felt foreign to my body, like it didn't belong there, and I didn't want it. I didn't want to try anymore. I was having a hard enough time just trying to breathe, I didn't need anything else on my plate, so to speak.

My mother arrived in a cab, a small duffel bag over her shoulder, and I sighed in relief; she wasn't planning on staying long. Her light brown hair was short now, a very angular and stylish cut streaked with golden highlights. Her small frame was decked out in new threads, a pair of jeans with rhinestones embedded on the pockets, a black v-neck sweater and scarf, and black pointy boots with a black tailored jacket that looked like leather. Looking at her from the front window she looked like she could have been in her early twenties and I knew she had probably revamped her look just for this occasion. I wanted to punch her in the face. Here I was, a fucking disaster of a person, mourning the loss of a father I'd never really known, and she had been playing fantasy makeover. Two words kept running through my brain and I couldn't silence them, no matter how hard I tried to think of anything else; with every step her new black boots took towards the house, all I could hear was my mantra, fucking bitch, fucking bitch, fucking bitch.

Edward sat protectively on the arm of my chair and hovered over me as I curled my legs into my chest. He placed his hand on my back and I felt ease in his touch so I gave him a small smile. I hadn't even stopped to think about how this must be affecting him, the toll this must be taking on his emotions. He was about to meet his girlfriend's mother for the first time, and under such dire circumstances at that. Compound this with the fact that my mother is totally inept and you've got yourself one toxic situation. Yet Edward could not be wavered. He stayed, constantly my protector, constantly my supporter, and I was reminded once again how completely unworthy I was of all his affection. "Inside your own self-pity there you swim…"

Renee stood on the front porch for a minute, probably deciding on whether she should knock or just walk on in. Eventually, she decided that announcing her arrival wouldn't be necessary and walked through the door, invading the foyer. I could see her from my chair as she eyed Edward suspiciously and moved towards me.

"Bella, baby! Honey, I'm so sorry," she gushed, the musky, organic smell of smoke and patchouli and whiskey persisting as she pulled me from the chair and into her arms. It was a smell I knew well, oddly familiar and trite, confounding my multitude of conflicting emotions. I found her arms comforting yet anxious, the previous overshadowed by the latter as her eyes still fixated on Edward, who had let me go with great reluctance.

I mumbled a greeting into her leather jacket, the cool material damp against my cheek. She pulled away quickly and awkwardly looked around at the many guests filling the living room. I assumed she was expecting an introduction and I was about to speak when Esme stepped forward to introduce herself. I sat back down on the chair Edward was now occupying, squeezing onto the seat with him. He made room to allow my body to fit in the space and placed his arm behind me, not quite touching, but resting his hand on the arm of the chair.

"Hello, I'm Esme Cullen. We're friends of Charlie's. You must be Bella's mother, Renee?" Esme held out her hand, her ever accepting warmth extending from her fingers, and Renee took her hand, nodding her head.

"Yes. I'm Renee, Charlie's ex-wife," my mom said sullenly. I had assumed my mother was going to turn this into her personal pity party, but I hadn't ever heard her refer to being anyone's anything and now she was an ex-wife, a widow. Renee had made it very clear in the past that my father didn't mean anything to her anymore but I guess it made sense that she would mourn as well. However, I found myself not feeling sympathy for my mom in this moment, but for Esme and Carlisle, people who truly loved Charlie and had lost a friend. My mom hadn't really lost anything here except a small piece of a past she longed to forget.

"This is my son Emmett and his girlfriend Rosalie. My niece Alice and this is my nephew Edward," Esme continued, ignoring my mother's declaration of affiliation and motioning to each of them as she said their names. I hadn't told my mom about Edward but I could tell she knew something was different about him, his proximity alone enough to cause suspicion.

"Pleasure to meet you all," Renee said as she dropped her duffle bag by the chair. "I'm so thankful you were here to take care of Bella until I got here," my mother said, like I was a fucking child needing tending to. I hated it when she talked about me like I wasn't in the room.

"Of course," Esme replied politely. "Well, I think we'll be heading out. I'm sure you'll want to catch up with Bella." I turned frantically to look at Edward who leaned in to kiss my forehead while my mother's eyes burned into the side of my face.

"You'll come back, right? Tonight?" I asked Edward quietly and he nodded, his arm around me pulling me into a tight embrace this time. I nodded back as he stood up and I felt very small and alone in the large chair swimming around me. Emmett patted me on the back as Alice gave me a tight hug, and Esme kissed my cheek before they filed out the door. Edward held the door for them, giving me a small smile as he too disappeared down the walkway.

Being alone with my mother felt so strange and I didn't really know why. It had been just the two of us for seven years, a conjoined solitude that I had accepted. Now, in the absence of my companions, I felt the tugging ache of loneliness invade as my mother sat on the couch across from me, her inquisitive eyes staring right through me while I waited for her interrogation.

"Was that your boyfriend?" she immediately asked, and I nodded. "And those kids are your friends?" Again, a nod of my head but she persisted.

"That was his aunt? Where are his parents?" she asked, pulling at the afghan on the back of the couch, and I couldn't stand to see her fingers on that crocheted blanket.

"They're dead. Why did you leave my dad?" I thought I'd ask a few questions of my own that had been tormenting me for, oh, I don't know, eight fucking years. She had to answer them now, now that he was gone. Even if she lied to my face, there'd be no one to dispute her and at this point the lie would be better than nothing.

She froze, pulling her fingers from the blanket and folding them in her lap. "Bella, you've obviously been through the ringer the last couple of days. You look awful. Maybe this isn't the best time to talk about it." Renee stared at her hands, cowardly and shaken, probably because she knew I wasn't going to let it go this time, not until she at least gave me an answer.

"I'm fine. I think we should talk about it now," I retorted, my voice curt and short.

Renee sighed. "People change, Bella, and we just didn't want the same things. It happens all the time in marriages," she shrugged her shoulders, as if to make it final, like that half-assed answer was enough.

"That's bullshit. I don't know many marriages that end in the wife sneaking off with a child to fucking Phoenix in the middle of the night followed by seven years of estrangement," I spat. She was hiding something, she had to be. That couldn't be the only fucking reason. It was like sitting in traffic for an hour only to find out there was absolutely no fucking reason for it, that it was just because. I swear to God, if this was all just because I was going to go ballistic on this woman.

"Bella, that was a choice I had to make for me, for us. It was just better for everyone that way," my mother snapped. "Look, I'm sorry your father passed away. I'm sorry you didn't have a relationship with him, but you wouldn't have had one regardless. He was father and husband to his work alone. He didn't love anything more than he loved that job because they worshiped him there, worshiped him in a way I never could."

"You're so wrong, mom. He loved us. Look at this place, he hadn't even changed the furniture, and he was loaded too. He could have bought a whole new fucking house if he wanted to, but he didn't. He wanted this house, he wanted us!" Again, the tears trailed across my cheeks, the truth behind my statement only now beginning to transude into understanding. He had wanted us, I just didn't know how to prove it. I didn't want to prove it to her, I didn't give a shit about what she thought, I wanted to prove it to myself. I had to prove it to myself.

"What do you mean, he was loaded? How do you know this?" Shit. I hadn't meant to let that slip, but it seemed very poignant to the point I was trying to make. I shrugged it off, my diversionary tactics mirroring my mothers.

"Charlie knew how to handle his funds. He had a savings account for me," I said casually.

"What? How much?" My stomach sickened at the glimmer in her eyes, but I understood that gleam. Growing up, we didn't have much cash. I mean, we had enough, enough for Renee to splurge on her weed and whiskey. However, she had been a single parent and had to work a lot, sometimes taking on extra sessions during the summer to make ends meet. She had raised a kid on her own, even if she had done a shitty job at it. I could see how she thought she deserved to be compensated, I guess.

"Enough, he left me enough. Plus the house," I mumbled. She was going to find out soon enough, it might as well come from me. Again, my stomach twisted and I wrapped my arms around my torso.

"Bella, don't you see? This is the best thing Charlie could have done for you. We can sell the house…" my mom continued to rattle.

"No, mom, you don't understand…" I tried to interject.

"And you'll have plenty of money to pay for college, plus you could get your own apartment or you could live on campus. You could always live with us, University of Florida is only about an hour from Jacksonville…" The plans tumbled from her lips, her speech animated, her hands flailing all over the place.

"Mom…" I tried to interrupt her but she just talked right over me.

"Or, you could enroll at the community college where I'm teaching. That would be so much fun, a couple of college girls!" She clapped her hands, delighted at the idea.

"Mom!" I shouted. She finally shut up, her face startled as her eyebrows creased.

"Mom, I'm not selling the house. I'm going to stay here, in Forks," I said firmly. There was no way in hell I was going to sell this house, especially to move to Florida. I wasn't going to relocate for the remainder of my senior year of high school, leave Edward and abandon our plans for New York. Just the thought of it was enough to make me cringe, a panic rising in my chest.

"What? Why would you want to stay in Forks? Because of some boy?" Renee asked, confusion darkening her features.

"It doesn't really matter why, mom. I'm staying in Forks," I sighed. I didn't want to argue or explain, and I was tired; tired of not knowing the truth, tired of her bullshit, just fucking tired of trying.

"You can't stay here by yourself. You're just a kid, you're still in high school, for Christ's sake," my mother snorted, a smirk upon her stupid face, like I haven't been by myself since she dragged me out of this house when I was ten years old.

Anger flared in my chest and I felt a fire in my belly as I narrowed my eyes at her shitty smirk. How could she diminish all the shit I've put up with from her, all the times I cared not only for myself, but for her as well? How many times had I been left to fend for myself while she was out with some new boyfriend or fucking puking her guts out in an alcohol induced stupor?

"Don't for one minute think that I can't take care of myself. I've been taking care of myself for as long as I can remember, mother. I've put up with your bullshit for far too long and I'm done. This is my house. I am an adult and legally I can stay here by myself," I said bitterly.

My mother was quiet and still, embarrassment clouding her features like a scolded puppy, her tail neatly tucked between her legs. This used to make me feel bad, guilty because I hurt her, and she was always so quick to remind me how much she had sacrificed for me. But today it just made me pissed. This was her game, the passive, poor me role that she assumed. And I didn't want to play anymore.

"Well, I guess you've made up your mind. I just don't want to see you get trapped in Forks, like I did, snipped from the vine. You're young Bella, you're smart. You could do a lot of things with your life. I don't want to see you strapped to a life you despise. I just hope this boy is worth it." The phrase rang in my ears, familiarity in the words, and I remembered a conversation taking place in this very living room, Charlie voicing the same concern.

"Snipped from the vine? What the hell does that even mean?" I asked her, my hands waving through the air.

"Like a rosebud, Bella, picked too soon. You never get to see it open fully or grow to its potential, enjoy it when it's most beautiful. It stays a closed up bud always until it wrinkles and withers and dries up into a crumbling mess." Renee dapped at her eyes, the tears shining from across the space.

I sat quietly, the analogy beginning to make sense in my brain, and I realized that no one, not one of us would ever reach our full "potential". I thought of my parents, my mom stuck in a small town she had grown to hate, living the life she claimed she never wanted; my father, trying to get ahead in his career, torn between appeasing his love and supporting his family. Even Carlisle, choosing to turn his back on his brother, only to carry the burden of his actions; Esme, giving up her career to care for two more children, her attempt to appease Carlisle's guilt.

I thought of Emmett and Rosalie, so young, with a baby on the way. Whatever they wanted to do with their lives, it was going to be more difficult because, now, they were going to be responsible for another human being. Was this baby the snipping of Rose's vine? This was what she wanted now, but would we find her someday withered and crumbling, sitting across from her own bitter daughter, explaining to her how her life had been ruined by an accidental lapse in judgment? And Emmett, every opportunity in the world just begging for his attention, how would the pruning shears of real life burden his potential?

Then there was Alice and Edward, plucked from the vine through no fault of their own, genetics and circumstance clipping their opportunities for fulfillment. Alice, emphatic and loyal, a reflection of her brother's care for her, but indulging in reckless behavior, drugs and alcohol, sneaking around with an older boy who not only supported her behavior but indulged as well, his own perceived inadequacies fueling his quest for attention. Jasper and Alice both impressed me each day with their care for one another, with their ability and persistence to adapt to their situations, but, fuck, what could they have been capable of if they hadn't had all this shit to deal with? What if Jasper's parents hadn't been dickheads and sent him to his music school? What if Alice would have been able to grow up at a normal pace, retaining some innocence without the weight the death of her parents had placed on her small shoulders? How would they have bloomed away from the sharp cuts of their realities?

And Edward, that sweet, nurturing being who had forsaken his own happiness time and time again to protect the ones he loved. Edward, a genius mind capable of shear brilliance, forced instead to become caretaker for his sister, forced to live each day with the fear of a mind-altering disease, asked now to deal with a love, a partner plagued by continuous failure and disappointment and pain. Edward could have been a gorgeous rose, he could have had the biggest splay of color, the most magnificent spread of petals; but snipped he had been, a small bud barely beginning to develop and, oh, what he could have accomplished.

Oh, what he could accomplish still.

This whole vine business was bullshit. What potential did we have to reach? Who was the dictator of said potential and who had appointed them so? Who determined that a rose in full bloom smells sweeter than a delicate bud? There is beauty in both if you know where to look.

This is what my mother chose to see, her missed opportunities, her lost potential, when she could have been noticing a husband who loved her, who desperately tried to make her happy. She could have seen a child vying for her attention, begging to be noticed. Instead of wallowing in all the shit she supposedly could have been, she should have stopped to realize what she was; she was hurtful and damaging and selfish.

And she had kept me from potentially knowing anything else.

…

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Fucking Renee...

Joni Songs Referenced:

Down to You

Flight Tonight

Rose's Blue

Jericho

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