Author's Note: Sorry guys!! D: I'm in the middle of moving to a different state, so it's kind of difficult to update. I'll try to update soon!

Disclaimer: And the WORLD!!!

Bella's POV: Chapter 6

Bella's POV: Chapter 7

I slid painfully into the passenger's seat of Charlie's police cruiser, trying as hard as I could to not touch or jostle my injuries. My back still ached painfully, and it was hard to move, though I tried not to show it.

Charlie was still pretending to be nice, waiting until we got home to be normal I assumed. He didn't say anything during the ride, merely glancing over at me in disgust occasionally.

"You're so weak," he finally said when we pulled into the driveway, "It's disgusting. I should have just killed you." He ran his fingers through his thin, graying hair, the brown threads being pushed back in a sloppy fashion. He looked tired, something I was thankful for. Maybe he was too tired to beat me today. I could only imagine what he could do to my already burned skin. Knowing him, he would peel it off.

I shuddered at the though, clenching my jaw and trying not to gag. I waited for a moment until Charlie went inside, my min reeling at what was awaiting me, before walking in.

And then nothing happened. He merely sat down on the couch, turning the game on and ignoring me completely. Bewildered, I escaped to my bedroom before he could change his mind and sat down on my bed.

I don't know when I fell asleep exactly, just that I did. About 3 hours later I woke up to the smell of something burning and the fire alarm going off, the loud beeping piercing through my skull like a jack hammer, making my already hurting head hurt worse.

Jumping up, I rushed downstairs, finding Charlie cursing at the oven, smoke billowing out of it. He was waving a dishtowel at the fire alarm with one hand, trying to open a window with the other. I rushed in, not saying anything as I reached up and disconnected the offending object, grabbing another towel and waving the smoke towards the window. Charlie stepped back and watched me warily, his strong hands wringing the towel over and over.

"What were you trying to make?" I asked softly, stepping out of hitting range.

"Spaghetti casserole."

I nodded. Mom used to make that for me when I was sick. I wasn't sure if it was a touching gesture, or something to upset me. Either way, it made me wary of him.

"I'll remake it," I said softly. He nodded, walking out of the room. The scent of smoke was heavy in the air, and moving around hurt, but I didn't want to make him angry. He was in a good mood I guess, who knows. He's never acted like this towards me before.

Pulling out the ingredients again, I scraped the remains of the burnt casserole into the trash, cleaning the pan off and starting again.

It turned out well, the tempting aroma floating through the house as I pulled it out of the oven. Charlie wandered into the kitchen, setting the table silently. I was surprised to watch him set two places, putting a heaping mountain of casserole on both of our plates.

Sitting down, I watched him, waiting for him to take the first bite before allowing myself to dig in. It tasted so good! I haven't eaten anything like this since I moved here. It was… Amazing.

"You seem hungry," Charlie noted, watching me eat. I paused, nodding slowly, wondering if this was when the beatings would start again. He merely flashed me a smile and continued on with his meal, spooning chunks of baked spaghetti into his mouth.

The continued on in silence, neither of us talking. Once he was done he put his plate in the sink, walking into the living room and returning to his place on the couch. I washed the dishes quickly, briefly thanking whoever the hell was watching over me that Charlie hadn't injured my hand.

Finally, once I was done I was tired enough to return to bed, laying down and closing my eyes. I couldn't help but wish that Charlie would start abusing me again, because frankly, not knowing what he would do next was scarier than knowing pain was on the way.

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