Sorry chapter so short!
The next day school came and went, then the weeks went by and Charlie made me see a shrink, apparently I was depressed.
I had to go to her once a month and be on medication, but I didn't care. All I wanted was Edward.
Edward and I's calls had become less and I was afraid of losing him, he and Carlisle were fighting a lot. All because of him wanting to come home.
Esme wanted him to come home, she knew he wasn't happy but Carlisle wouldn't allow it, so Esme stepped down. Some say its giving up which you should never do especially if its your child but Carlisle was stubborn and she couldn't do anything.
Alice and Emmett never wanted to talk about the situation, mostly because it brings up memories of there parents fighting all the time and Edward's hysteric phone calls.
Everyone was worried about it but no one seemed to care. No one wanted to confront them.
I sighed, not wanting to think about it anymore.
I looked around the room. It was the end of September and it was a dark evening, I sniffed the air, Sue was making dinner and Charlie was watching the game. I looked out the window and saw that it was raining really bad.
I watched as the rain hit the window really hard. We were in for a nasty storm.
Sue called us for dinner and my dad and I went into the kitchen. We sat down and started to eat. There was little chatter going on at the table, but only about boring stuff and when I was asked a question, I would shrug and give a vague statement.
After dinner, we had apple pie, as I was finishing the last piece I heard the doorbell ring.
I got up and answered the door. I looked down at the persons feet.
I looked intently at his new black shoes that looked as if they had only been worn once before, he had his dark black wash jeans that were drenched from the rain and a thin white t-shirt that was socking wet, showing off his abs as the t-shirt stuck to his skin.
I looked at him, he looked broken and tired, he looked as if he had been through hell and back.
I choked on what I was going to say:
"Edward. . . . .