Chapter 3 - The Beast Inside

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"How was your first day, Bells'?" Charlie called from the living room.

After scuffing my boots on the mat and shaking out my raincoat I stepped through the front door.

I sighed, ringing out the damp ends of my hair.

I didn't even know how my day went.

It was one big sloppy mismatch of emotions, thoughts, and blurred faces. Alice's face, as far I could tell, the only one standing out. Pristine. Every detail polished and in its place.

"It was... alright I guess. Anyway, you're home early?"

Now thinking about it, Dad would stay out 'til six most workdays when I used to visit. It was barely scratching four. Perhaps things had changed?

"Clocked off early," He called, the faint sound of a crowd's cheers traveling down the hall, "Wanted to make sure you got in safe and everything went well. It wasn't busy down at the station. The boys can handle it."

I shirked off my coat and hung it up on the rack by the door. I tried not to jump, Charlie's gun belt dangling so casually on an adjacent rung. I guess Charlie wasn't quite used to cohabitating just yet... 

"Do you need me to put something on for dinner, or?" I made my way into the living room and leaned up against the back of the couch, gesturing to the kitchen.

"Well, I sort of ordered pizza. You still like pepperoni and olives, right?" Charlie glanced up, his dark eyes reflecting the game. A hesitant smile tugged at his mouth.

I guess I was going to have to make a concerted effort if I wanted to kick Charlie off of his takeaways and TV dinners.

What with the trashcan full of takeout boxes and plastic packaging from frozen meals, and now pizza for dinner, Charlie clearly had a problem.

"I didn't know there was a pizza place in Forks?" I mused, mindlessly watching large burly men ram shoulder guards and kick mud.

"This one just opened. Thought it would be exciting to try. You know, support local business and all that," Charlie mumbled, returning his attention to the screen.

"Mm, I have some homework to do so just call me down when the delivery guy gets here," I patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and then headed up the stairs.

Stepping into my room, my eyes washed over the furniture and colors that'd characterized my childhood. This was going to take some getting used to.

The rows of dark-stained bookshelves Charlie built for my fourteenth drew my eye first. Each shelf brimmed with books, old and new, but mostly old. I still had some more left in my suitcase that I needed to cram in somewhere.

I flicked my eyes to the much newer desk and the ancient computer that sat atop of it.

Even though the computer was slow and the desk chair creaked with even the smallest of adjustments, I loved it. Saved me going down to the library every time I needed to do extra research for my assignments.

I pulled my books out of my bag and slapped them down onto the desk. I pressed the power-on button and sat down, patiently waiting for the old computer to whir into life so I could get a head start on schoolwork.

I preferred reading the days away so was always incentivized to jump in early so that I could indulge wholly in my favorite form of escapism.

I glanced forlornly at Anne Rice's Interview with a Vampire and Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights, both resting neatly on the shelf behind me. 

I'd of course already finished both. Numerous times. 

They were my favorites and would repeat their yearly siren's call without fail - beckoning me to stand at their shrine and pay homage with yet another enraptured reading. Now, more than ever, I was hearing that call.

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