A Constant in The Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Four - Songs to Aging Children Come

Darlings,

Thank you for kind words my lovelies! I won't be posting again until after the new year and I may not get to respond to your notes, but I love you and I wish you all happy, peaceful memories. I'm such a sap around the holidays...

Goddess of grammar, priestess of punctuation, n7of9, thank you for your brainstorms of brilliancy. One week, one week, one week...

Disclaimer: It's not mine.

...

EPOV

I watched Bella's hips swivel as she sauntered up the stairs in front of me, a fucking pounding in my ears as the silence of the dark house bellowed. This was as natural to me as breathing; I had been following Bella up these stairs every day for almost a year now, but today trepidation bled heavy in my every footstep. Just minutes ago, Bella had been on the verge of unconsciousness, collapsing into me at her father's funeral, and now she was just ambling up to her room like nothing had even happened. She flopped onto her bed, shedding her boots and tossing them aside, her feet hanging over the edge as she sank into the soft mattress.

She hadn't been eating and hadn't slept in days, and when she stumbled into my kitchen today with panic in her eyes and her skin laden with sheen, I just fucking lost it. I wasn't planning on hashing this out tonight but I couldn't hide my fears any longer, I couldn't stop the stress from showing on my face even though I knew she was looking for it, waiting for me to fuck everything up, waiting for the soapbox spiel, just fucking waiting for something to break. I tried to avoid it by making sure nothing I said sounded like an accusation, because, really, that's not what this was about. I wasn't trying to prove a point or win an argument, I was fucking scared and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I just needed to know that Bella was okay.

But then Bella asked me a question that sickened my stomach, the inquisition sarcastic in nature and meant to be demeaning. This wasn't what made me sick though; it was my response to it, the first answer to pop into my brain upon registering her words.

"So what are you going to do, Edward? Force feed me? Hold me hostage until I eat?" Bella asked, and I could hardly meet her eyes, afraid the contact would betray my true answer. Because the answer was a most emphatic yes. I would do whatever it took to make sure she was healthy and safe, even if it meant bribing, forcing, or manipulating, I didn't fucking care. I would refuse to let Bella destroy herself.

She knew it too, the glint in her eye was like a fucking spotlight on my betraying face. With the flood gates now open, she unleashed a stream of allegations at me and all I could do was gape as she huffed around the room, her fury expanding in the small space and vibrating off the walls.

"And you…" she said, her small body in front of me, hands on her hips and heaving as she shook, her words spitting from her lips as she stared directly into my face. "You think forcing me to do anything is really going to help? You think I don't notice the way you watch me, critiquing my food choices, biting your tongue when I don't eat what you want me to eat? You don't know what I'm going through, you haven't lived with this. You have no idea what it's like to have to live every day with this struggle." Bella's eyes were determined, her brow crouched in indignation.

I knew this was an attempt to antagonize me, I knew it, but I couldn't stop her words from invading and taking root. I couldn't hedge the resentment metastasizing throughout my entire body. She wasn't completely wrong; it was so incredibly difficult to not at least pay attention to what she was eating, and I tried to hide it and be subtle but obviously she could tell, and I felt like a goddamned fool. But how could she possibly think that I didn't understand? Fuck! I had people all over my shit; Carlisle, Esme, Alice, all of them watching me for signs. Carlisle and his damn indicators and Alice with her fucking cards, it was almost laughable that Bella would think I didn't know what it was like to be watched, that I couldn't relate. I had lost my parents, too. I fucking knew what she was going through, I fucking knew this. It was the same shit I had gone through during my days of self-destruction, the very reason I sought out the fight, because the bruises and cuts felt better than the emotional anguish that continuously punched through my everyday interactions.

"You know that's not true, and I'm not even going to argue with you about this because it's ridiculous and belittles everything I've dealt with, everything I am," I spouted, my frustration recognizable in my voice and inflection, meant to dispute her absurd claims. I moved toward her as if the proximity would emphasize the legitimacy of the words.

But she matched my stance, her nose turned up as she glared at me, smug as all shit.

"You won't argue with me, because you know I'm right," she said, mighty in her words and with a strength and conviction in her voice as her stubbornness pushed through her insecurities.

I knew what she was doing. She wanted me to fight with her, give in and support her self-deprecating behavior. She wanted me to tell her she was wrong, or that she had upset me, that she had failed in her attempts to monitor her eating habits. She wanted me to point out that at the first sign of distress, she abandoned all progress. It wasn't that I wasn't thinking it, because I was. I was fucking making myself sick with the shit I as thinking about, but I couldn't be the one to give into this. She wanted to feel like shit but I refused to indulge her.

So many emotions were crushing me now: fear, frustration, panic. I just wanted to make it go away, make every horrible feeling and thought fucking disappear, so I did what I could. I kissed her, I pulled her into me and I kissed her, hoping it would dissipate the hostility between us and abate her poisonous thoughts. I was just fucking praying that maybe she'd feel something other than pain and that maybe she'd be able to dwell on that for a moment instead.

Two small hands on my chest pushed me away, my contact rejected as confusion clouded my focus. Again, I was helpless, useless, unable to offer her anything that she would accept. She didn't want this kiss and I was frustrated as all hell that I couldn't dissuade her from her malignant self-loathing. I was fucking crushed and embarrassed at the rejection and just fucking shaken by my inability to comfort and nourish her. I mean, fuck, if I couldn't bring comfort to the one person who mattered, the one person who needed it the most, what the fuck good was I? If I couldn't nourish Bella, my whole existence was fucking pointless.

She continued to lay her accusations as she stalked towards me, but I couldn't look at her. I knew I couldn't say anything useful because at this point she was so far gone, nothing I could say would make any difference. She was deflecting her emotion, trying to force me into giving her the reaction she was craving, using anger as a tool to mask her helplessness. I could have easily given in to that anger, I could have manifested her pain and transformed it into pure disgust. It was fucking torture to deny her, to not give in to her every desire, even when her desire was self-loathing.

But I was no stranger to this anger and forcing it was futile. It would abate her sadness and pain for a while but would leave a wave of hurt and regret in its wake. I wouldn't allow our connection to be siphoned by the residual hurt.

I remained silent and let her vent, all her allegations thrown at my feet. She pulled at my shirt to force me to meet her eyes but I just couldn't, I'd crumble the moment I saw her normally warm liquid eyes cold and hard and like packed earth. I let her push me around, her voice still commanding and strength emanating from her, powerful in her frustration. Desperation forced me to finally look at her and be faced with a passion I'd rarely seen in her contemplative eyes. Here she was, irate as all hell, but with a fiery glow surrounding her, a welcome reassurance compared to the empty silence I had witnessed this past week. She looked so…alive. There was no cold stone, no hardened earth.

She was absolutely breathtaking. With her neck stretched long and high and her chest still heaving, she clutched my shirt with fierce resolve and I saw a glimpse of the tenacious and confident woman she could become. I wanted to be there to see her like this, so strong and healthy, almost regal in her every conviction, and the vision left me trembling in awe.

Bella kissed my lips urgently and I felt a current beneath my skin. I struggled to remain indifferent to her attempt to illicit a response but I knew it was a pointless battle, it always had been. Resistance was a trifling waste when it came to Bella. Ever since the first day I saw her at the market, when every self-imposed red flag shocked through my awareness and fate mocked my every attempt to turn away, I couldn't withstand the power she had over me.

And now I was changed because of it. Bella had smothered me in acceptance and affection, her love providing me a distraction from my own fucked up shit. Bella offered me an alternative in its purest form. She kissed me again, another reminder of what Bella had offered me when she chose to give me her love. Even through all my apprehension, all my self-disgust and destructive behavior, she was always able to find it within herself to unsparingly give me her love – and this is what I could give Bella.

I couldn't ever make up for her father's absence from her young life, I couldn't ever make her mother put Bella's needs ahead of her own, I couldn't give her the explanations she desired, and I couldn't ever take away her compulsions and desire to deny herself nourishment and care - but I could adore her.

I surrendered to her then and pulled her face to mine, frantic and desperate to give this to her, to make her feel ease, even if it was only for a short time, clinging to the pure gratification in the contact of our skin. I relished in the sweet reunion. Fuck, I had missed her. I had been with her every day since Charlie had died but she hadn't really been here and now I was greedy in my touch, grasping at her skin, pulling at her hair and frantic to get to her. I kissed her neck, yanking the bit of fabric that clung between us, desperate to touch her flesh, to feel her quivering around me. I stripped her legs free of the heavy material, eager as I pushed my way around the small cotton panties to feel her warmth on my fingers with a throaty hum as I matched her relief at the contact. The sounds from her lips urged me to move faster as her body fucking writhed against mine.

I needed more. The power of my desire completely absorbed me and my mind tracked towards fulfilling the desire. My hands trembled in anticipation as they tried to manipulate the fasteners at my waistband. I felt her fingers tangle with mine and pull at the button as she quickly removed my pants, my hands clutching her thigh as I hitched her leg around my hip, positioning myself beneath her and slipping the elastic band aside as I thrust into her, immersed and consumed by the soft, silky flesh. My hips pushed into her roughly, egged on by the fluttering of her eyelids and her parted mouth gasping with every thrust. I poured my adoration into this girl, almost begging her to feel it and accept it and let it comfort her. I felt her alive in my arms, vibrant and passionate and just so goddamn fucking sexy, my desire for her completely overwhelming and my hunger for ecstasy inciting every push of my hips, every pull of my hands, our slippery skin a conduit of pure lust.

She pulled away and I growled at the lack of contact as she pulled her sweater over her head and removed the last barriers between us, every bit of her glowing ivory skin now exposed. I pulled her with me to floor, the wood shockingly icy against my bare skin, and wrapped my arms tight around her small waist, her body grinding against my lap as I filled her deeply, her warmth completely surrounding me. I continued to pull her onto me, rocking my hips, grasping and heaving, her long hair tickling my fingers pressed into her back. Raw sexual energy radiated around us and I completely relinquished myself to her as I groaned into the dark and quiet house.

Bella gasped as she stuttered and muffled a cry, and I struggled to regain my composure. Something was wrong! She stilled and slumped against me, her eyes closed and her face contorted in pain as I leaned back to look at her face.

"Bella…are you okay? Are you hurt?" I asked, out of breath. This was too soon, too frantic, her pained expression surely a dead giveaway. She opened her eyes and held my gaze with determination as she again ground herself against me, and I struggled to not give in to her persuasion, her hesitation just moments ago still fresh in my mind. Fuck! Of course she was upset! She had just buried her father and now this! I had to stop this, let her know that she didn't have to do this, that we could wait until she had some time to sort out her emotions.

"Bella…" I shifted and stretched my legs beneath me, the floor piercing cold against my naked skin as I sat up and tried to pull her off my lap, but she tightened her knees around my hips, her thighs pressed into my waist. Her eyes peered into mine with a fire smoldering behind them and again that regality exuded from her every fiber. She shoved my shoulders to the ground sending my head thumping against the floor, a spiraling jolt of pleasure surging through me. Fucking amazing. She wasn't very strong and the thin muscles of her tiny arms strained as she pushed against my chest, but I let myself fall, let her feel her power, the power she possessed over me as I quivered beneath her.

It was so fucking torturously seductive the way she hovered over me as my fingers clutched her flesh, her intensity tangible in her every breath. She was waiting for my response and a flicker of apprehension clouded her features. In one swift thrust I released all hesitation, giving her back some control over the situation; even if it was just for this moment, if all she could control was this, I would give that to her.

I let Bella lead me and her desires quickly fueled my own, and holy fucking shit, did she lead. It was messy and fast as her body ground and rocked, her hips moving with fervor as she sought gratification. Her dark hair swirled around her shoulders and hid her face and I wanted to push it out of the way, but I couldn't bring myself to allow my hands to let go of her. I watched her features transform, the crease in her forehead softening, her tight jaw now slack as her lips parted and the energy between us intensified, the steam of the previous hostility now a mere sigh of relief. Pressure began to expand in my chest as emotion overwhelmed my entire body, my heart expanding, trying to take it all in, trying to internalize every touch, every jolt, every breath, and I couldn't control the agonizing adoration I felt for this girl. God, I wanted so much to give her everything, to be everything for her, the emotion twisting around my chest like a tourniquet constricting any other function and leaving only one goal, one priority, one life-giving force to absorb: Bella. Love Bella, adore her, accept her, live for her, live with her, consume her, and be consumed. I submitted to this task, the desire suffocating as my eager soul relished the opportunity. I tried to breathe but tears welled in my eyes as I wept at the all consuming power of the emotion. This was something I had never in my life experienced, to love so completely, be so deeply encompassed with adoration that it actually physically hurt. Because it did, the pressure in my chest, the swelling in my heart, the pounding of my blood streaming through my body anxious and desperate and overwhelmed with love: it was excruciating. And it was all for her. It was all I had to give, this love, and I wanted to give it to Bella every moment of every day for as long as my heart continued to pulse within my body. As long as there was a breath of life left in my soul, it would belong to her. I would belong to her.

"Fuck!" Bella breathed, the word rolling around her mouth an incessant number of times. I lifted my head, the passion in her voice catching my awareness. I pulled myself up and felt the flushed skin of her breast against my face as the salt of my tears smeared her skin, and I couldn't stop the groans now taking over, my body bound to the craving as Bella and I collided, her movements turning from lust and anger to satisfaction. I felt that coil begin to stretch deep inside my groin, the intense gratification pouring through my body clouding my thoughts and removing any hesitation. My hands pulled at her thighs as my hips thrust up to meet hers, a blur of visceral movement clashing and clutching as our bodies shook with blinding euphoria. I didn't want to let go, didn't want to succumb to the pleasure now tingling through my muscles. I wanted to allow Bella to stay in this place a little bit longer, keep her in a state of bliss and pleasure far from the emptiness that had invaded her soul all week. I fought the urge to give in, staving off the unraveling for as long as I could. And then I felt her constrict around me, her body writhing as she took me with her, my body shaking with relief as the flood of ecstasy washed over me and I pulsed within her. I held her to me, her face against my chest and her hair falling around my shoulders softly and tickling my skin. I felt every part of her as I held her tightly to me, and I couldn't get enough, relishing every breath that moved through her body, her chest heaving against me with every inhale.

Bella pulled the comforter from her bed and wrapped it around us, the draft along the floor beginning to move over my skin. I didn't want to let her go, still moved by the influx of emotion our union had drawn, so I left her to fall asleep on top of me, absorbing her weight even as the discomfort of the hard floor beneath me began to stiffen my joints. It was still fairly early and I wasn't really tired so I shifted until I could lift her. I placed her gently on the bed and after dressing myself got her some pajamas from her dresser and pulled the clothing over her limbs, finally covering her with the comforter. I looked around her room and chose a couple of books from one of her stacks of paperbacks, and grabbed a notebook and pen. I had a couple of recipes running through my head so I situated myself on the bed next to her to jot down some of my ideas before I forgot them. I then opened one of her books, one I hadn't ever read but judging by the tattered cover and the dog-eared pages, Bella had frequently visited. I found myself relishing in the comfort of her soft snore, her breathing easing me into the silence of the dark house.

It was New Year's Eve and I could hear the celebratory hum of the town around me as cars whirred down the slushy street and music thumped from one of the houses nearby, and I found myself reliving the past year of my life, every moment from that first clash with her lavender smell to her hair swirled around her face beside me. It hadn't been perfect or ideal, but it was us, natural and elemental to my very existence. Every pain had been worth it, every punch, every fear, every setback, it all disappeared with one gaze into those deep warm chocolate eyes. The new year brought opportunity, change, and Bella and I were absolutely headed for some big changes. This time next year we would be celebrating the new year in New York and getting ready to move to Italy for the second session of the Academy, and while I knew this was what I wanted, I'd never felt so fucking scared.

And I'd never felt so fucking alive.

…

Jesus, I was cold. I pulled the comforter around my shoulders and nuzzled my face into the down-feather pillow, Bella's lavender scent clinging to the cotton. I stretched my arms wide looking for that soft and warm body, but found nothing but cold sheets beside me. I sat up and ran my hands through my hair, my mouth feeling dry and parched, looking around Bella's bedroom as dull light filled the space. An eerie silence permeated and I noticed that I was alone in the room, the world outside silent and still. I checked the clock on the nightstand: seven thirty-seven. I reluctantly left the warmth of the bed, my bare feet icy against the wood floor.

Walking to the bathroom and still hazy from sleep, I noticed the faint smell of smoke reeking from Charlie's room. I peeked into the room to see Bella draped in flannel and sitting cross legged on the bed, the brand new sheets and quilt that Alice had bought tucked around her legs, and a pipe in her mouth as smoke clouded around her face. The room was a fucking mess with shit thrown everywhere, and Bella looked up at me as I slowly walked in. The bed was covered with papers, handwritten letters, stacks of envelopes, pictures, receipts, bank statements, just loads of paperwork covering the quilt.

"Charlie was still smoking. I found this in his drawer. The tobacco was still moist," Bella said, biting down on the stem of the pipe as she spoke through her clenched jaw.

She removed the pipe from her mouth and used a pencil to lightly snuff out the flame before placing the pipe on the nightstand. I sat on the edge of the bed, moving a few stacks of paper to clear a space.

"And he was still eating at the diner." Bella handed me a receipt, evidence of Charlie's eating habits splayed across the thin thermal tape: grilled sausage sandwich with bell peppers and onions, extra cheese, potato salad, chips, strawberry cheesecake and a diet coke. Yep, a diet coke, and I wondered why he would even bother with the zero calorie soda. Jesus, what the hell was he thinking?

I was starting to think Charlie hadn't ever really planned on getting healthy, his desire to indulge in the greasy edible comforts far greater than his desire to live. Maybe that's why he had been so indifferent to Bella when she first moved here, because he hadn't planned on living long enough to develop a relationship with her. He probably thought their lack of rapport was for her own good, to protect her or some fucking bullshit like that. So he pushed her away, inadvertently reaffirming her belief that he didn't care, that he never had, when in fact the only person he didn't really care about was himself.

Bella stayed in her father's room all day rummaging through his things, absorbing herself in paperwork, searching for clues in every piece of paper that Charlie had saved as she tried to piece together the past. I made her eggs and toast that she didn't eat, the breakfast cold as her plate stood untouched. I heated up some of the tomato bisque I had brought over earlier in the week for lunch, the fragrant soup filming over in a bowl on the nightstand. I sat with her in the closet as she read some of the documents from Charlie's file cabinet, occasionally disclosing small bits of information: Charlie had been on the Debate Team in high school and had received a scholarship offer from some university in California, but he never enrolled; he had been investigated for killing a suspect in the line of duty, but really, what cop hadn't? He had twelve subscriptions to fishing and game magazines and was a proud member of the NRA.

I moved to the bed, absentmindedly turning the glossy pages of a magazine as Bella ransacked his closet, breathing into his clothes and indulging in every scrap of paper she found. She was looking for something; vindication, relief, answers, all of them fueling her frantic forage. She had been in the closet a long while and I walked to the doors to see what she was doing.

"He wrote me letters," she said from her seat on the floor, her swollen eyes glistening, Charlie's belongings looming around her almost swallowing her up. She held a rubber band bound stack with various inscriptions scrawled across the address: Return to Sender, Not at this Address, Address Unknown, black marker decorating the letters in a swirling script. I sighed, afraid at what she would find, yet far greater relieved that she might finally have some answers.

"There are eight stacks like this in this file cabinet." She tore open an envelope and a rectangular slip fell from the folded paper, Charlie's print swift and neat across the page. Bella handed me the slip and I took it from her outstretched fingers. It was a fifty dollar check, made out to Isabella Swan, Charlie's signature at the bottom.

She soaked up the letters on the page, smoothing her hand over the folded paper as she moved through them one by one, each of them containing a check, each one addressed to her ten year old self. I let her read while I occupied myself with tidying the stacks, a kaleidoscope of expressions drifting across her face as she read, sometime emitting a scoff, sometimes a giggle, and every now and then crying, her hand reaching to wipe at her face. I left her to take a shower and returned to find Bella still submerged in her father's correspondence. This time I left to make dinner only to return to her sobbing over a slip of paper.

"Renee didn't even open them, she just sent them back. Why would she do that?" Bella asked me, undoubtedly not expecting an answer, frustration leaking from her every syllable as the letter within her fingers trembled.

"I can't believe she did this. It's such a violation, you know? She kept him from me. She lied to me. Flat out fucking lied. And eventually he gave up." Tears rolled down her cheeks as she brought the flannel to wipe at her face, the bundle clutched to her chest.

"All this time I thought he didn't want me, that I wasn't good enough, and it was all her fault. And now he's gone, Edward, and I'll never get to make it right, it'll never be right." I knelt to the floor next to her and pulled her into my arms as she sobbed against my chest, her face pressed into my undershirt, the magnitude of her loss just beginning to disclose itself.

As Bella poured herself into these letters, swallowing each one of them up, I recognized that determination on her face. It was the same determination I had seen last night, the same power and strength that she had allowed to briefly surface in a fit of anger, the emotion behind the altercation daunting, but what stemmed from that pain, what had blossomed in its wake left me shaking with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see Bella embrace this strength, become this tenacious person that I knew was buried deep within her deceivingly small frame, a startling spirit that I had seen her shield herself from time and time again. As I sat with her on the floor of her father's closet, bravely ripping through the remnants of his life, I caught a glimpse of an older Bella, mature and dignified, aware, awake, alive with passion and vitality, a woman majestic in her presence. A woman who has chosen to walk with me, and my entire being swelled with pride at what I saw in Bella that day, a brave being learning to love and to be loved in return.

…

BPOV

Bells.

That's what was neatly printed on the tab of my file. Bells. When I was younger my father hadn't really called me anything but Isabella. There were no silly nicknames, no informal titles of endearment, he would even cringe when my mom called me Bella, so I was a bit shocked to see a myriad of documents pertaining to me filed under Bells: school pictures, my young face hidden beneath a mountain of dark hair, my birth announcement, the tattered paper yellowed and tinged, watercolor paintings I must have done, dark clouds hiding a crude rainbow, big rain drops of blue covering elaborately colored flowers and butterflies typical of a ten year old, my greeting etched on the back, To- Dad, Love- Isabella. The entire file was fat with nostalgia.

And then there were the letters.

Dear Isabella,

Hi. It's me, Dad. I'm just writing to see how you are doing at your new school. Do you like Arizona? It's probably warm there. It must be nice to see the sun everyday. I bet you'll even get to swim in a swimming pool this summer.

I really miss you. I know you're probably scared and maybe sad, but you can come stay with me whenever you want. Your bedroom is always ready. Be a good girl and listen to your mom.

I love you.

Daddy

They had all been returned unopened. He wrote me letters and she had returned them all. Sickness invaded my body and my stomach churned in disgust as I thought of my dad here, all alone, waiting for a reply that would never come, the ideations he must have developed out of ignorance, just as I had, both of us drawing our ill-informed conclusions and opting for self destruction because of it. He had been smoking still, the fresh tobacco hidden in his drawer. He pushed his body to extremes, eating whatever the fuck he wanted, knowing what it would do to him, knowing what it would do to me. It wasn't enough, all the shit Edward and I had done to help him; I wasn't enough, his self-indulgent behavior superseding any love or care or concern my father had ever felt for me. He loved wallowing in his pity party more, steak and smokes and sneaking around behind my fucking back. It was so infuriating and so fucking familiar.

Fucking Renee. Fucking goddamned Renee. I shouldn't have been surprised. She was never a contender for mother of the year, but shit, this was just violating. That was the only word I could think of. She had defiled any bond between us, any chance of redemption contaminated by her breech, and any speck of trust I had ever placed in her was at that moment revoked. I continued reading the letters, piling the paper around me as I ripped through the envelopes, taking in every word, every eraser mark, every wrinkle and crease of the paper.

Mostly he had wanted to know how I was doing. The letters were filled with commonplace questions about my general well-being. He wanted to know the trivial things, asking about school, books, music, offering little bits of information about his life without us in return. He wrote about the Clearwaters and Billy, bragging about a particularly plentiful fishing trip or discussing the outcome of some random sporting event. These little crumbs made me smile, and I followed them, hoping to find my father at the end.

Edward had been with me all evening, sitting on the floor of the closet, reading through the letters as I handed them to him. He made me meals that I couldn't find the time to eat and made connections when I failed to. I was really grateful to have another mind available to access, picking his brain for perspective when I came to a particularly confusing or enlightening bit of information. He helped me draw conclusions about what was happening here while I had been in Phoenix, keeping the facts organized in his highly analytical brain. But he had gone to bed at about eleven o'clock, kissing me on the forehead and retiring to my bedroom. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep now, not after finding these letters, not with the possibility of finding more leering at me.

The letters became more of a journal as he realized he wouldn't be getting a response. He apologized for ruining my life, he asked for forgiveness, he wanted to know what I looked like, if I remembered any Joni Mitchell songs, if I remembered him. Every letter ended the same: be a good girl, listen to your mom. He never once spoke ill of her or blamed her for anything, finding fault only within himself.

And then the letters just stopped. He wrote to me for months and then just stopped. There was no indication that it would be the last, no final goodbye, no explanation or warning. They just stopped. At first, I thought there must be more, maybe I missed a stack or something, but I had torn that fucking closet apart and I didn't find any more bundles, the last letter simply signed, I love you, Daddy.

Maybe he got sick of sending letters that always came back, maybe he found something else to spend his time on or became too busy with work, but for some reason he stopped writing. For some reason, he had lost hope in the communication. I couldn't blame him, of course. I probably would have given up after the first few letters were returned. It had to have been completely devastating, a shiv every time he received a defiled envelope, his care and concern marked up and stamped all to hell. He had been denied access to his only child, the rejection executed by his wife, none the less. Well, ex-wife anyway. "What are you going to do now? You've got no one to give your love too…"

He could have come to see me. We had occupied three different motels in the beginning before settling in one of the shittiest apartments I had ever seen. Eventually, Renee was able to get a job teaching and she bought a small house close to the college, but he had sent a letter to each of the addresses. He knew where I was, he could have knocked on my door and demanded, he could have gotten a lawyer and put Renee through all kinds of hell, but he didn't. It all came back to her. Renee. She was the one who had chosen to leave, but for what reason? What could possibly have happened after ten years of marriage to cause her to act so maliciously? And how could he just let her get away with it? A handful of possibilities skated through my mind, each of them fitting for a sleazy daytime talk show, but I just couldn't think of one that made sense.

I kept searching the file cabinet. The only real source of information I had found so far had been concealed in the metal box. Tiny pieces of the past began to present themselves, things I didn't even realize had been missing from my awareness: a copy of their marriage certificate, the deed to the house, his parents' death certificates. I had never known them, my grandparents, and I smoothed over the type as I noticed that I shared my middle name with Charlie's mother, Marie, and instantly a swelling of pride bloomed within me. They had died before I was born, their certificates claiming the deaths at one year apart. I did the math in my head; Charlie had been eighteen when his father died of lung cancer. At nineteen, his mother passed away from natural causes, and the romantic in me couldn't help but think the cause was grief, broken heart syndrome or something, perhaps binary stars expiring at the same time, entwined and fused for the rest of eternity. I found myself pondering my own mortality and the prospect of this planet without Edward, without my elemental match. I pushed away the conclusions I found myself developing, my mind torturously lingering in dark, dark places.

I rummaged through newspaper clippings detailing Charlie's professional career, intently reading the numerous articles: Charlie being awarded some medal, Charlie being announced as Chief, Charlie dining with dignitaries from the Seattle area. My mother had been right about one thing, they had worshipped him, the whole town. I must have looked through about ten articles and they all said the same thing, that Charlie was a hero, that he had been an illustrious member of Forks' society and a fine upstanding human being.

Maybe they did just grow apart, or whatever the fuck excuse Renee had given me. Maybe my search was all in vain, a desperate attempt to soothe my weary soul. Maybe I should just give it up, be appeased with the fact that he had tried to contact me at all.

And then I saw her file.

Diner. Neatly printed at the top of a thick manila folder was the word 'Diner'. I would have passed it up, saved it for later, but the role the diner had played in my father's life had been so evident that as soon as I saw it I was intrigued, speculating what I would find inside.

I never once thought I would find this.

Renee Swan.

It was printed across the insurance statement, the bill dated the first of April, about a month and a half after we had left Forks.

The date of the procedure was listed just days after we had arrived in Phoenix: termination of pregnancy by surgical abortion. Apparently, this procedure was only partially covered by Renee's medical insurance and apparently, they sent a copy of the statement to the policy holder: Charlie.

Renee had been…pregnant? Slowly everything started to blend together like puzzle pieces in my head, shit linking up, fitting together as the picture became more coherent.

I didn't remember her going to the hospital at all, and the only thing I could figure was that she had the procedure done while I had been at school. She had been pretty messed up for the first couple of weeks we were in Phoenix, inconsolable and vacant. She had spent most of her time curled up on the bed of the motel we were staying at. I had thought it was because my dad had left us and she was going through a depression thing, but now I was seeing a different reason for her discomfort, something that I could have never deciphered at ten years old. She only left the bed to take me to school, often picking me up in her pajamas, whiskey on her breath and a cigarette between her fingers. She didn't even get a job until the money she had brought with her started to run out.

But why would she have had to leave? If she hadn't wanted a baby she could have had the pregnancy terminated here. Unless she didn't want anyone to know about it. That's the thing about a small town, everyone knows everyone else's business. The only variable I could think of was that she was trying to hide her pregnancy from Charlie.

I thumbed through the thick file and scanned the documents. I ran my fingers over their marriage certificate, and then their divorce papers, reading through the pages. There was a lot of legal jargon and most of it not making any sense to me, but I did notice that Charlie had relinquished all custodial rights during the separation. I frowned at this information, my heart plummeting as I thought of what that actually meant. How could he just give me up? And before they were even divorced? Maybe Charlie did know she was leaving? It was all so fucking confusing not knowing the truth, and now I would never be able to know what the fuck really happened. Shit was slowly starting to present itself, but fuck, I wished like hell I could just talk to Charlie about it, that I would have had the courage to ask him before - before now. Instead, I had been so wrapped up in how he had wronged me, how I had felt so abandoned, that I never even gave him the chance to explain. I should have just asked him!

Once again, the bile rose in my throat, pain seeping into my soul and echoing in the hollow space, the regret deafening as I struggled to control my breathing. Breathe, Bella. Fucking breathe… My stomach growled a low rumble in my belly and I found an ally in the emptiness, relishing in the physical discomfort as the basic need trumped the yearnings of my emotions. This pain was manageable, almost a relief in comparison to the agony tearing me apart from within my chest. I took a couple of deep breaths as I wiped the salty trail from my cheeks and forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

I continued to dissect the file, finding less significant pieces of my parents' life together stuffed into big manila envelopes, cards she had given him, pictures, school transcripts, and then, a plane ticket confirmation.

For Phoenix!

My heart pounded and anticipation clotted in my veins, my blurred eyes struggling to make sense of the receipt. The ticket was in Charlie's name and was dated May sixteenth. Charlie had come to Phoenix, or at least he had bought a ticket. He hadn't planned on staying, the ticket was for one round trip to Phoenix returning the next day. I set that aside with the pile of letters, insurance statements, and divorce papers, frustrated in the fact that instead of becoming clearer things we getting more and more confusing. Maybe I just wasn't looking at the information the right way, like those pictures that change depending on your perspective. I had been thinking about this mostly from Renee's point of view, trying to figure out why she had left. But these weren't Renee's files. They were Charlie's. I needed to think like Charlie.

I tabulated what I knew, trying to focus on my father, and carefully created a timeline to reconstruct the sequence of events: he had graduated high school, planned on moving to California for school, his parents died, he blew off school, married my mom and joined the Police Academy. Three years later I was born, ruining my mother's life and subsequently the lives of those around me. Then, after ten years of marriage, she filed for divorce, got pregnant, skipped town, and terminated her pregnancy. Charlie wrote me letters and bought a ticket to Phoenix, yet whether or not he visited still remains unknown.

Stifling a yawn, I stretched my arms over my head, my heavy eyelids becoming more and more difficult to control, every blink reminding me of the struggle. My head was starting swim, exhaustion limiting my cognition, and I thought about putting my quest on pause until I was more coherent. I stood up, my limbs stiff and aching from my prostrated position, the blood making its way back through my extremities as I walked around the small room.

I picked up his pipe from the nightstand and again filled it with tobacco from the wooden box. Ghosting a flame over the dried leaf and placing the stem between my lips, I inhaled deeply, letting the sweet flavor fill my mouth, a cool tingle on my tongue before exhaling. The aroma soothed me, filled me with calm and peace as I extracted sweet memories of my father, the familiar ache burning in my chest. I let the tobacco burn out, smoking just enough to fill the room with his smell, allowing his essence to linger around me. I didn't care for it much, the actual smoking, but I couldn't let go of that scent, not yet. I wallowed in it, pretending I was ten and we were on the porch, a beer in his hand and a smile on his lips, his large hands cradling the carefully crafted pipe. It was almost enough to transcend the ever present emotional purgatory I was sloshing around in. "Can't numb you out, can't drum you out of my mind…"

Almost.

I inhaled, feeling the breath fill my body, and took some comfort in the invading oxygen. I opened his drawer looking for a clean coveted flannel. I pulled back the cotton and the denim and my fingers grazed against a thick cardboard parcel in the bottom of the drawer. I pulled out the portfolio, my hands numb as I pulled the elastic straps back to open the casing.

Inside I found a collection of letters, my mother's handwriting looped along the page. My breathing accelerated as an eager panic jolted through me and caused my legs to give out. I slid to the floor, my back knocking against the dresser as it lightly shook against the wall. This had to be it, the answers, the truth, the reason for it all, the obscure concealment placing its importance far above anything I had found in the filing cabinet.

I pulled the first of the letters from the pile, my eyes focusing on the delicate penmanship as I began to make sense of the scrawl.

Dear Charlie,

I'm sorry. I know I said I would try and I have been. I swear to God I have been. But I just can't live with you anymore. I can't live here, constantly alone, constantly waiting for you to get home. I'm wasting away, my life speeding past me while I'm stuck in this house, this goddamn fucking house and I can't stand it. I don't know who I am anymore and what I do know, I don't like. I never wanted this, to be a wife, to be a mother and I thought our love was enough. I truly believed that, that all we needed was our love and everything would be fine, that we would be fine.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

I'm sorry Charlie. I loved you, but I can't be this anymore, whatever it is that I have become. I'm suffocating here. Please don't try to find us, it will be better this way, a clean break. It will be easier for us to heal, for Bella to heal, if she isn't constantly reminded of you. I know you will do what's best for her and leave her be because you love her and want her to be happy.

Renee

I sat still a moment, my mother's words sinking in and permeating my awareness before I moved on to the next letter. I devoured them all and looked for details, and Renee provided them, rationalizing her midnight flee and chalking it up to neglect. From what I could gather she had served him with divorce papers long before she fled, but for some reason there had been a reconciliation, something happening around Christmas time. During the initial petition for divorce Renee had asked for full custody of me and Charlie had given it to her. Apparently, he thought she would change her mind, which she did, briefly.

She didn't disclose it but these letters must have been written before Charlie found out about the pregnancy because in April she wrote this:

April 13, 1998

Dear Charlie,

I know you're confused and I know what I did was wrong and horrific but I just couldn't stand the thought of another baby. Shitty diapers and sleepless nights, giving up my body to play host to another human being that I would have to take care of for the next eighteen years, I just couldn't do it and I especially couldn't do it alone. And that's exactly what I would be, alone, your dedication to your job outweighing you dedication to this family.

Lets be honest, you didn't really want a baby either. You have it too good, and a baby would have just complicated matters. I know it was wrong of me to keep it from you, and for that I apologize, but I regret nothing else, the termination of the pregnancy was best for all of us I think.

Charlie, my mind was made up to leave long before I discovered I was pregnant. I was going to leave, no matter what. The pregnancy only hastened the transition. I'm doing you a favor, trust me. I'm not even the kind of wife that you want. You deserve to be with someone who can give you everything, and I can't.

Please, DO NOT come here. I know you threatened in you last letter that you had bought a plane ticket, but please don't come. It won't change anything and it would really disturb Bella to see you. She's made so much progress and is really happy. You don't want to mess that up, do you?

I'm so very sorry,

Renee

The way my mother used Charlie's love to keep him away from me made me literally feel sick. I didn't know how one woman could project such hatred, such deceit. It was the epitome of disgusting and I wanted so badly to take these letters and wave them in front of her face, gloat the knowledge she had tried so hard to keep from me.

I continued reading, adding the details to the already complex scenario presenting itself. Renee discussed Phoenix and how it was a new start for her, how she didn't want anything from him, no money or help of any kind. She handed over all rights to any of their possessions, even the house. Her only request to him was to be left alone.

It was so fucking selfish, each letter more disgraceful than the last, igniting a rage in me that slowly began to simmer in my blood. It was all lies, all fucking lies. She had no fucking clue what I had been thinking or what had been going on with me because she had never bothered to ask. I read every letter in the bundle, my eyesight blurring as exhaustion settled over me, my body beginning to shut down as it neared the early hours of the morning.

I heard a Blue Jay garble outside Charlie's window, highly atypical for this time of year but I found comfort in its soft melody, the world outside just beginning to come alive as I read the last of Renee's letters dated June, signifying the end of his letters to me as well. I quickly deemed it no coincidence.

June 3, 1998

Charlie,

Please, if you love us at all, if you ever loved me, you will never come back here again. Bella doesn't want to see you, she's too upset. Please just sign the papers and let us move on with our lives.

Please, just give me this one last thing. And if you can't bring yourself to do it for me, do it for Bella. She doesn't need to be put through anything else, custody hearings or meetings with lawyers. That's not what you want for your little girl, is it? That's not how you want her to remember you.

Please Charlie. It's over. It's time to move on.

Renee

Fucking lying bitch, how could she? She used me, flat out used me to get what she wanted, to run away from her problems. I was so fucking floored by the realization of what she had done and the implications of it all as I began to drift into unconsciousness. My mind was a mess and her betrayal seethed in my pores as I struggled to hold onto coherency.

Renee had destroyed him, completely used him up and then decimated any hope he had left. She couldn't get out of her own damn head, her needs taking greater priority, and instead of dealing with it like a fucking adult, she had lied and she had cheated and she had stolen.

Renee had lied about her pregnancy and negated Charlie's involvement in the decision. She cheated him out of being a father when she skipped town and took me with her, leaving him alone. And she stole his life away, the thievery far more excruciating than his perceived indifference or his dedication to his work could ever have been. There was no comparison between the two.

My mother was the most despicable human being I had ever met.

I wanted revenge, redemption. I wanted to travel back in time and refuse to leave with her, preserving my young, innocent self, not yet the bitter shell of a human being I was to become. Because that's what I was, damaged goods, completely fucked up and defiled beyond repair.

I fell asleep that night on the floor next to the dresser, surrounded by papers and the clothes I'd haphazardly let slip to the floor in my search for flannel, Renee's deceit clutched between my fingers, her betrayal fresh in my mind as I calculated a path for vindication.

…

I awoke to a loud rapping on wood, the sound invading my dreamless sleep and yanking me from the comforts of slumber. I was incredibly comfortable, too warm and entirely too rested to have slept on the hard wood floor of Charlie's room. Sitting up, I slowly opened my eyes, my bedroom coming into focus around me, my purple comforter tucked around my legs. I heard some commotion downstairs, Edward's voice a low murmur followed by a fast, emotional tone, the tenor higher in pitch and most definitely female. I quickly marched down the stairs to find Rosalie sitting on the couch, Edward on the chair next to her with his head in his hands, and I immediately feared the worst possible news, knowing that I couldn't handle any more tragedy right now.

Instead, Rose looked up at me, tears streaming down her perfect, beautiful face, her long blond hair pulled back into a tight braid.

"They know, Bella. Everyone knows," she said as Edward's eye shot up to meet mine, the green slits narrowed in speculation. I was concerned at his reaction but I knew he could wait. Right now, Rose was dealing with a huge issue and that is where I focused my concern.

"How? What happened?" I asked, taking a seat beside her on the couch, Edward's eyes following me as I moved across the room and took Rosalie's hand in mine as she relayed the details.

"I had been really torn up about what happened, with your dad, especially because I know you didn't really know him that well and it kinda got me thinking about my relationship with my own parents. I don't know anything about them, you know. Not one fucking thing. And it made me, I don't know, kinda sad." She took a deep breath, the admittance difficult. I nodded, accepting her explanation and letting her know that I could most efficiently commiserate. She continued, her free hand settling on the tiny bump now exposing itself. "Weary of lies you are sending home…"

"I told them that I missed them, asked them about things that they liked and talking about the stupidest fucking shit, and it felt good, you know, like it should feel when speaking with your parents. It felt so natural that I decided I was going to tell them. I was just going to bite the fucking bullet and tell them the truth. So I did." Rosalie was quiet as I awaited the rest of the recount. But Rose didn't speak, so I decided to press the issue.

"And?" I asked, a little perplexed I even needed to ask.

"It's over Bella. All of it. They wanted me to get rid of it, they didn't even care how, they just wanted it gone. When I refused they said I was dead to them, that they had no children anymore. They disowned me, said I was a disgrace and to not come back to see them. They completely cut me off. No more apartment, no more school, I'm just fucking waiting for a tow truck to come and haul away my car, because it's going to happen, Bella. I have nothing. Nothing!" Rosalie erupted into tears again, her desperation thick in her quiet voice.

"What did Emmett say about this? And Carlisle and Esme?" I asked. She wasn't alone, I wanted to stress this to her without seeming like a caustic bitch, so I led her to the information, instead of dictating it. Edward shifted in his seat at the mention of his family and I could see his eagerness to learn the outcome of the confession as well.

"Emmett wants to quit school and get a job so we could get our own apartment and shit, but I can't let him do that. I refuse to let him give up school. And Carlisle and Esme…well, they weren't as bad as my parents, that's for sure. They were disappointed, I could tell. But Esme hugged me and told me she loved me before I left." Rosalie used her sleeve to wipe her nose and eyes, the action so uncharacteristic that it caught me off guard and I stared at her sleeve. "What the fuck, Bella? Haven't you ever seen a runny nose before? Shit!"

I smiled at this, glad to see at least a glimpse of the Rose I knew hidden beneath the grief and distress. Edward ran his hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair, absorbing the information. I had been looking forward to sharing with him my newly acquired information about Renee, but that would have to wait because, at that moment, Rosalie sobbed again, her hand clutching mine as she brought the other to smear the tears from her cheeks.

"I have nowhere to go, Bella," Rosalie muttered, as fresh tears rolled across where her hand had previously wiped. "I'm not allowed to step foot inside my parents' home and Carlisle and Esme are already playing safehouse to too many teenagers." Edward flashed her a menacing look at this comment and she stared right back at him and replied. "Well, it's fucking true. They don't need another houseguest."

"You can live here," I said quickly, the decision quick and logical. It made sense. Here I was with an empty house and she needed a home. "You can have Charlie's room. I've been going through his stuff anyway. I'll pack it up and we can move you in as soon as you'd like."

Edward stared at the coffee table in front of us, his lack of attention concerning, but then he had just learned some pretty substantial news concerning his family. Rosalie became very quiet, sharply turning her head to face me as she squeezed my hand in hers.

"What?" Rosalie asked, her red rimmed violet eyes overflowing with shock. "I…that's not why I came here. I just…I…"

"I know," I said cutting her off. "I need a roommate anyway. I've never lived alone, and I'm a little scared. You know, to do this on my own." Rose nodded, her eyes understanding and completely aware that I was completely full of shit. I knew she would have difficulty accepting help, she'd always had everything at her disposal, and now, now she was at the mercy of others. Shit, if Charlie hadn't left me with so much cash, I could easily see myself in the same position. And, yeah, I was a little scared to live on my own, but it's not like I was really on my own, Edward had stayed with me every night and I didn't plan on that changing anytime soon.

"Thank you, Bella. I'd really like that, to live here," Rosalie said quietly, her voice muffled as tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

"Right. Then it's set. I'll finish cleaning up Char…the room," I said, trying to remain optimistic. I felt awful for the disappointment that Rosalie must be feeling and I was anxious to find out what Edward was thinking, his quiet demeanor a bit unsettling. But most of all, I was thankful for the distraction, someone else to focus on instead of sulking in my own self pity. I welcomed it, the distraction now blowing her nose into the sleeve of her sweater, her belly swelling from beneath the cable knit.

I knew it wouldn't be easy, but it was something that I could offer, a tiny slice of karma available for the taking, and you never turn down an offering from karma.

…

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Who wants an Edward for Christmas?

Joni Songs Referenced:

Just Like This Train

Flight Tonight

Little Green

Songs to Aging Children Come

And one little obscure reference to my most favorite Third Eye Blind song ever, Motorcycle Drive-By. Did anyone catch it? You get extra big kisses if you did…