Chapter 6: Artsy

Chapter 6: Artsy

"Welcome to the art room, Isabella. I've been expecting you," a tall, muscular and tan man greeted me in his deep and inviting voice. He had dark features: nearly black eyes, long and silky raven colored hair that was tied in a ponytail by the nape of his neck. If I had to venture a guess I would have surmised that he was of Native American ancestry. What was this, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest?I had never seen him around the halls of New Moon -—not that I was paying close attention before. He was not dressed like an orderly and didn't seem to resemble any of the other psychologists I had seen. Certainly he wasn't a patient. Curiosity picked at the edges of my consciousness to know who this was. It was then that I saw his nametag-—Jacob Black, it read. Scanning the room, I tried to get a feel for it. Although it was an art room, it was oddly and sparingly filled with pieces of art—-perhaps maybe only a handful of paintings and drawings were hung on the very pale chartreuse walls and none of it looked like crazy people had done them.

"I'm Jacob Black, New Moon's resident art therapist. I'm so pleased you're joining us today; Dr. Soigner informs me that you'll be spending your activity periods with us for the remainder of your stay here," he said as he outstretched his hand in greeting. I shook it in return and cleared my throat. The action, like so many other normal social interactions, felt foreign to me. Eyeing him, I sized him up. He could pass as attractive… in fact; he was quite beautiful in an earthy, artistic sort of way.

"Erm, hi. Yeah, I guess I'm supposed to be in here," I lamely replied.

"You can call me Jake. Follow me; I'll give you a mini-tour." Jacob Black led me around the decently-sized art room. The middle areas of the room were filled with many work tables with other patients scattered about among them. In the very center was a table draped in white linen and nothing else. Along the length of the largest wall were many cabinets filled with varying supplies, Jacob informed me. Each art-patient (that's how he liked to distinguish us from the non-art therapy patients) was assigned a locker for them to store their personal supplies-—usually provided by the patient's family—-and works of art. To me, they seemed more like oversized cubbies. They were located on the wall opposite of the supply cabinets along with the utility sink.

"The art room is open, and subsequently art-therapy occurs, Monday through Saturday. Sunday is my day off," he smiled as if it was something I cared to know. Whatever he did when I wasn't with him in art therapy was of no consequence to me; I didn't care so he could take his playful smiles and keep them to himself. Jacob led me to an empty work table by the corner of the room near the windows to the outside. The sun lazily shown through the thick Seattle clouds and filtered through the dusty sills onto the table we occupied. While gazing through the dirty window, I was suddenly aware that it had been quite a length of time since I had felt the sun on my face-—even covered in clouds—-and the wind through my hair. I longed to be outside once again.

"So, Isabella what are you in for, if you don't mind me asking," Jacob blurted, distracting me from my daydreaming.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, it aids in me knowing how to help you if I know where you're coming from so I can get you to where you're going," he stated.

"Like, my diagnosis?" I tested. I felt my eyebrows knit in confusion. Truly, I was unsure of what he wanted me to say to him.

"Not necessarily. I mean, what happened in your life to get you here at New Moon. All Dr. Soigner said was that you've been here for a month, you possess creative qualities, and that your ultimate desire is to leave very soon. He's not much of a talker if you ask me," he joked in a deep, booming sort of laugh. His humor was unnecessary in my eyes. I just wanted to do this artsy-fartsy bullshit and go home. "I'm sorry," he amended seeing my confusion, "it's just that usually I can get a read on people when they show up at the art room without them having to go into great detail right away about what's going on in their life but with you it's all a mystery. I can't get a read on you-—you're a tricky one, Isabella."

"Uhm, OK. Well… two months ago I saw a report on CNN that said my fiancé was dead. I, uh, love him so much and it hurt so badly that I couldn't live without him… so I, uh, swallowed a bottle of valium I was supposed to take for the plane ride to go see him in Paris. A week later, with no news of his body, I tried again and ended up in a coma for a couple weeks," I recalled, staring intently out at the clouds covering the sun. "That really pissed my family off because when I awoke, I was greeted with admittance forms for New Moon Psychiatric Facility. A week later I ended up here and was drugged up with quite a cocktail of psychotropic drugs. About a week after my admittance, I tried to kill myself again and was in a haze ever since. Yesterday my fiancé showed up with all of my family and proved to me that CNN had made a mistake which really woke me up. I mean, I'm back to my old self. People grieve differently, right?… So, now I'm just trying to show everyone that I'm sane so I can get out. Any questions?" I huffed. Having to recall the past two months of my life felt quite peculiar. Even to my own ears I sounded a little insane. Perhaps I went a little overkill on the honesty thing.

"Wow…," Jacob said after a few moments of charged silence. His face was inscrutable though I tried to decipher what was going through his mind. "OK… well that sounds like a lot to deal with," he attempted. I had succeeded in momentarily stunning him from speech. Unexpectedly, embarrassment flooded my cheeks in a warm, uncomfortable blush. Of course I had to ruin my chances of Jacob thinking me sane ten minutes into him meeting me. I have got to get a grip on myself, and fast! I mentally chastised.

"Right, well uh… since it's your first day in the art room, I'll just give you a sheet of paper and you can find your own medium to work with. Just… create whatever comes to mind. It's best if you focus on your thoughts and not what your hands are doing," he recovered. Abruptly, he left my side and I was alone again with my thoughts—-slightly nutty and unclear. Walking over to the cupboards, I noticed that all of the other patients were angled so they were surrounding the center table. As I looked from their collectively different pieces I started to notice something: although they all had the white table in their piece, the things upon it were all vastly different. One had a ragdoll, another had an alien-looking thing, and a third had a spoon. Crazy people, internally I scoffed, seeing things that aren't there.

Scanning through the many cabinets full of different materials, I tried to decide what tools I wanted to use. My hand ghosted over a wooden box, grainy and sanded smooth to the touch. It was as if it was calling to me so I opened it to find what was inside: charcoal pieces and chalk. They would do. My thoughts. He said stick with my thoughts, I pondered. What thoughts! Picking up a charcoal piece gingerly, I tested its feel in my hand. Not too foreign, oddly enough. I tried to think about something to draw. The only thing my mind kept coming to was that after this art nonsense I was going to be seeing Edward again. My hand started to move of its own accord as I drifted through different daydreams of Edward and myself.

"Who's that?" Jacob interrupted. I stared down at the paper in front of me that had magically been filled with the most beautiful sight: Edward. It was as if mere seconds had passed by since I sat down to my clean sheet in front of me. The only thing I was aware of, previously, had been the image of Edward and me at a little bistro in Paris where we would have shared a romantic French meal for two.

"Oh, uhm, that's my fiancé," I replied once I had become sentient of the present happenings around me.

"Why is he shaded so darkly… and looking up to the viewer?"

"Well, I was sort of picturing him at a specific moment…" I defended as soon as I realized what I had drawn.

"Which one would that be?"

"When he proposed. We were in this meadow at night filled with ridiculous amounts of twinkling candles and he proposed in the doorway of our would-be home," I remembered aloud, "It was the happiest moment of my life." Jake was quiet for a moment, in thought no doubt.

"Hmm. Very interesting."

"How so?"

"Once again Isabella, you fail to behave like a typical patient I see here."

"Well what is that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"Usually when a patient is given free-range over what they can create they depict something dark, depressing, and slightly confusing—-especially with such a suicidal background as yours. Instead, you draw the happiest moment of your life, and rather well might I add," he explained. Did he just compliment me? "You're very talented as it seems." Yes, he did.

"I, uh, took art in high school. But you said yourself that he was shaded darkly…"

"Yes, I did, but you just explained to me that the image is at night which makes this drawing of yours quite realistic," Jake paused and looked at me, staring deeply into my eyes. It was a little unnerving and yet familiar all the same. "You are going to be a pleasure to unravel."

"What?" I gasped. It sounded so sexual, but his composure made it seem purely professional.

"Your mind, the workings of your mind will be very interesting to unravel and understand," he offered. 

His face was neutral, not giving away any emotion or an insight to his thoughts.

"Ohhkayyy…" Truly I was at a loss for words.

"I'll show you your locker where you can put that drawing and then you can clean up and go, alright?" He smiled.

"Sure, sure. Oh! Uhm, the other patients, I noticed that all of them had drawn or painted something different than what was there on that table… is that typical of crazy people?"

"Isabella, I wouldn't say that they're crazy people, otherwise you might as well call yourself crazy. Their assignment, however, was to draw an object on the table that most represented themselves at this moment in their lives. I would hope that they didn't just draw an empty table," he joked. There was that smile again, like the sun shone through his teeth—-his big pearly-whites. It comforted me in a way that nothing else had at New Moon. Who imagines themselves as a spoon! I though, remembering one of the paintings I saw earlier.

"Right, and every sane person envisions themselves as a spoon," I called to Jake as I started to put away the supplies I had used. After the spot I had occupied was clear of everything except my drawing, Jacob spoke again.

"I'll show you to your locker now. Here, put your drawing inside," Jacob instructed as he pointed to my personal cubby.

"But, I wanted to hang it in my room… I don't have any pictures of Edward or my family," I begged. Why wouldn't I be allowed to keep my own drawing in my room? This place had odd rules.

"Sorry, but it needs to stay here for at least a few days. I'd like to get to know your work better before I let you gallop off with it," he tried to smile comfortingly. It didn't work because I left feeling quite frustrated.

.::.

As I walked alone through the halls mulling over my day so far, I felt utterly exhausted. It had been the most activity in which I had participated in two months. Although I was brimming with excitement to see Edward, I really wished I could have napped first so as not to spoil the moment with drooping eyelids, the inability to pay attention, or something of the sort. Rounding the corner to the corridor of bedrooms, and feeling very pleased with myself for remembering my way around the facility, Nurse Emily stopped me.

"Isabella, your visitor is here," she called pleasantly. "He's in the visitor's room, but you're welcome to go wherever you desire in the ward."

"Oh, OK; thanks Emily," I returned her smile.

With as much energy as I could muster, I loped off to the room we had all gathered in yesterday. Apparently I was the only one with visitors as of late. As I approached the doorway that separated me from Edward, I began to feel his presence; it was a slow tingling sensation in my skin that spiraled lazily to my gut and below. The closer I went to the door the more intense it became until suddenly it was overpowering when I saw him through the open doorframe. All the air in my lungs whooshed out when I was awestruck again by his ceaseless beauty. Practically skipping forward, I wrapped my arms around him and breathed him in.

"Edward," I said as I exhaled. He smelled divine, just like sun-intensified honey and musk.

"Hello, love," he greeted and kissed the top of my hair. I had practically thrown myself on him exuberantly and he still was as calm as ever. I reverently kissed the scar that now occupied his face and lowered my head to rest against him so as to listen to his heartbeat: proof he was alive. "I have something for you," he offered. Lifting my head from his chest, I leaned back to look at him in the eyes, his breathtakingly green eyes. I couldn't help but smile.

"Oh? What would that be? You know I don't like presents…"

"I believe this belongs to you," he ignored my question while fishing in his pocket and held out a black velvet box. Opening it, he flashed the diamond ring at me. I held out my left hand and he placed it on my now-bony third finger. It sagged a little, but nothing that a few 1,500 calorie meals couldn't fix.

"My engagement ring!" I cooed, never breaking eye contact. It meant so much more to me that he brought it and placed it on my finger again instead of Alice giving it to me. I was thankful that she, most likely, had orchestrated it so. "Thank you," I said with a kiss; it was sweet and innocent. Just when I was about to deepen it, a yawn started to overpower me. Sheepishly, I looked at him again, embarrassed with my fatigue.

"Don't be embarrassed Bella," he chastised, reading me all too well. "I'm tired too. Physical therapy was daunting today. Would it be alright if we took a little nap? I haven't slept well in about five months."

"Me neither," I conceded. This time, after eating two meals previous to my wheelchair pushing attempts, I was able to manage the task much better. Edward helped out a bit by getting the wheels started, but I was pleased with my progress none-the-less. Once in my room, concern over how Edward was going to get into my bed crossed my mind. Using his strengthened arms, he pushed himself out of the wheelchair and into my bed using a technique he learned in physical therapy and my worry was proved useless. When he was settled in bed I climbed in next to him, molding my body to his and his arm snaked around my palpably thinner waist. I thought I had heard him mutter so thin, but my exhaustion could have made me imagine that. Before we drifted off to sleep, I remembered how precious our little time together was. "Just… forty-five minutes… set the alarm—-no longer," I instructed just as I lost consciousness. For the first time in a long time, I slept in a peaceful manner without nightmares of hauntingly bloody sheets.

.::.

I awoke some time later to silky-soft caresses on my cheeks. "Mmm," I croaked as I became more sentient. I could feel Edward's warm embrace still spooning me: it was delightful and I had missed it so.

"Truly I cannot convey to you how much I have missed that little voice you use when you are sleep talking," Edward greeted. Opening my eyes, I found us lying in the same position we had fallen asleep in. Our eyes met and I felt at home again. It was as if no time at all had passed, like we had just woken up in our large bed on a Sunday morning: refusing to leave it all day. We passed a few moments simply gazing at each other, both of us too aware of how much we had missed this.

"That was the best sleep I've had in god knows how long," I commented.

"You have no idea." We sat in quiet for a few minutes while Edward played with my hair and continued to stroke spirally patterns on the skin of my cheeks again.

"When do you get to go home?" I bravely asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"I should ask you the same thing," he retorted, his face turning into a faint scowl. Damn it! Alice told him! I mentally panicked.

"I asked you first…"

He sighed before answering. "In a couple weeks, I guess. My physical therapist wants to make sure the apartment is … accessible, and that I'm ready enough to potentially live on my own." As he spoke the last sentence, his eyes drifted to elsewhere in the room. An emotion I couldn't put my finger on clouded his usually brilliant eyes. "I want us to go home."

My throat caught as I pondered my response and my face flushed crimson in anguish. "I do too," I spoke finally, just as the tears cascaded over the rims of my eyes and down my cheeks.

"Do you? You decided to stay here of your own accord… perhaps you're suffering from Stockholm syndrome?" Edward's tone was heartbreaking. It was angry and resentful yet sad and sarcastic. Maybe I try to see the best in people, but there also seemed to be a touch of understanding there as well.

"I just feel as though… I don't know; there's unfinished business here. Dr. Laurent said something that sort of clicked with me," I reasoned.

"He tried to convince you that you've lost your mind and you believed him! Well then maybe you are insane after all," he spat.

"Take that back! How dare you!" I screamed as I pushed away from him. Hearing those words come from Edward's lips just about shattered what little sanity I had been able to muster after thinking that he was dead for two months. Involuntarily, I began to shake.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Bella, I didn't mean it. Babe, you know I didn't. I'm just frustrated with… everything: I can't walk, you're in here, we've been apart for ages, and all I want to do is be home with you in our bed again but everyone seems to be against us! My mother is resolute that I stay at Alice's place while she and my father stay on and off until I can 'care' for myself. Dr. Soigner and my father along with Esme want to keep you in here. Who knows what Charlie's thinking… It's just so much. We should be planning our graduation parties and our wedding… not how to get me to walk again and you out of the loony bin!" Edward ranted as he tried to hold me tight against him. It was the first time he had truly shown his emotions about everything that had occurred. Granted it was only the second time I'd seen him, but it was still shocking and yet somewhat relieving.

"I—-I… something is wrong with me Edward and I don't know what… that's why I decided to stay. Esme was so sure that this is where I should be, and Dr. Laurent said that I would be a burden to you all, that you're not even at our home yet. I'm so unsure all the time, I feel so lost. You heard what he said about my so-called 'abandonment issues'… well they're real. I have them. Didn't you ever wonder why I was so quick to shove you off to Europe? I was afraid that if I didn't send you away, you'd eventually leave me on your own. That is just so messed up!" I sobbed into his chest, muffling my loud wails. He held me close, no matter how ridiculous I sounded. Edward stroked my hair comfortingly, kissing my forehead every so often until my sobs quieted enough for him to speak, holding me all the while.

"Bella my love, it's not your fault I got hit by the car."

"Isn't it though?" I bawled as guilt washed over me. For the first time since the news of his accident, I recognized part of the anguish I had been feeling: guilt. I had practically forced him to go to Paris. Perhaps I was blaming myself all along for his accident.

"Not at all, Love."

"I convinced you to go to Paris! If I wasn't just so completely messed up with my issues that I didn't even know I had, you would still be walking and I would be anywhere else but here as long as I was with you. We would have had Paris together or something equally as great as that… I'm so sorry, Edward," I sobbed again. My body shook with desperation. I was desperate for him to understand and almost for him to blame me for this; after all I had felt so responsible.

"That is entirely the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you say! I wanted to go to Paris; I just wanted you to come too. Everyone has issues, Bella. It's not your fault, love," he comforted. Edward tried to convince me that I was blameless but I just couldn't hear it. Now that I knew why I had all but sent in his application to the Sorbonne, I couldn't help but feel responsible for our current predicament. If only Renee had sent me to see a shrink when I was younger like most parents would have when they get a divorce. No, do not blame other people for your own shortcomings! It is not mom's fault, my inner-self chastised. He held me until my sobs had quieted.

"I'm sorry," I rasped once I had contained myself. "I've been really emotional these past two days."

"It's entirely understandable. Haven't we all?"

"I guess…What time is it?"

"Five"

"Hmm… dinner is in a half-hour. Are you staying?" I wondered.

"Unfortunately not, Esme wants to take the family out to dinner. Charlie's coming after dinner, so you won't be here alone for long," he regretfully told me.

Edward and I lay in bed for the remainder of the half hour, talking and trying to enjoy our time together. Alice came and collected Edward, much to his and my disappointment. She was bouncy and energetic—-happy as ever to see me-—while he and I were sullen and depressed. Quite a pair, he and I made. Dinner came and went without much goings on. The typical shit went down: Tanya pestering another patient; Victoria and I pretending we had nothing to do with it and so on. Much to my surprise neither Victoria nor Tanya had asked about my day. Charlie's visit went better than any of his previous visits and I could tell he wasn't afraid to leave me at the end like he had previously been. Apparently my progress within the past twenty-four hours was comforting to my family. At least I had that going for me.

After Charlie's visit, while I was thinking about Victoria and Tanya and the dynamics of our friendship, it finally dawned on me why I had chosen them out of all of the crazy-ass bitches they had filtering through New Moon: they were the mental institution version of Alice and Rosalie. Victoria had Alice's sweetness, optimism, and boundless girly energy while Tanya had Rosalie's beauty, brass balls, and say-anything type attitude. Rosalie, however, was not a sociopath and little Alice couldn't even kill a fly. Nostalgia for the days when the three of us were inseparable overtook me and my thoughts. For the first time, I actually thought of Rosalie. Rosie! I should call her, I reminded myself. I did just that, taking full advantage of my new phone privileges.

As I sat in one of the booths outside the nurses' station, the phone rang twice before Emmett picked up the phone at the apartment he and Rosalie shared.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hey Em! It's Bella."

"Holy-fucking-christ! They let you use the phone now! This is fantastic!"

"Well I wanted to take advantage of it. Is Rose there? I realized today that I've been neglecting her severely and I must remedy that!" I enthusiastically explained. A little knot of anxiety wound itself up in my gut-—the prospect of facing Rosalie one-on-one, even on the phone, made me nervous for an inexplicable reason.

"Yeah, I'll get her for you… in a minute. Can I talk to you really quickly while she's in the next room?" He spoke softly into the phone.

"Uhm, sure Emmett. I've missed you too."

"Aw thanks Belly, but that's not what I wanted to talk about. Uh… OK so this is a little bit of a sore subject around all of us-—-as I'm sure you well-know—-but Rosie is taking all of this really hard, harder than the rest of us. You know why, right?" Emmett cryptically spoke into the phone.

"It's escaping me. Maybe you should just say so because my mind has been a bit of a mess lately." My heart began pounding erratically in anticipation for what Emmett was about to say next.

"Do you remember how her mother died? She killed herself Bella, when Rose was in high school. It was after her parents split up." My stomach plummeted to my feet and I was sure my skin was positively green with nausea.

"Oh my god, I completely forgot about Mrs. Hale," I admitted. I flashed back in my mind to when Rosalie had told me, the look of pain and heartbreak on her face so raw. It was the most exposed I had seen Rosalie ever I had been moved to tears alongside her and Alice as the three of us held each other. Again, I flashed to another time when Jasper—-who had gone to high school with Rose-—told me what she was like after. He had said that it was hard to look her in the eye without wanting to cry. Jasper had also told me about how the whole school had signed a no-suicide contract after an assembly in order to support Rosalie and her younger brother. No wonderRosalie couldn't bear to be in the same room as me; I had brought her back to the worst time in her life. I had been a terrible friend. For the second time today, overwhelming guilt overtook me. "I'm so sorry Emmett," I said in a small voice. I was too embarrassed to say anything else.

"Well, you should be. I don't know if I should let you talk to her right now…" He thought aloud.

"Please Emmett? I'm better now. I just want to make things right," I pleaded. It was bullshit of course, because as much as I had thought that I was now better the more I was discovering how unwell I actually was.

"Fine, but she can't be held responsible for what she says. She's reliving hell and then some, so you better be nice." I had never had Emmett talk to me that way ever and it scared the living shit out of me. He was so protective over Rosalie; it reminded me of how Edward always was with me. In the background, I could hear the rustling of the changeover taking place with the phone.

"You're so pathetic, and a coward," Rosalie hissed to me before the phone went dead.

.::.

Chapter 5: Resolve

Chapter 5: Resolve

Edward stood before me, beautiful as always yet somber as he chanted Bella, what have you done? Wiping my tear streaked cheeks with the back of my hand, I discovered that my tears were blood and I became horrified. He extended a white sheet towards me, presumably for me to clean up the mess that was my face. The moment the sheet left my face—-covered in my blood—it floated eerily across the distance between us. In an instant, it entwined itself around his neck in a noose-like fashion.

"Bella," he wheezed as the bloody sheet constricted his throat, "why are you killing me?" The sheet tightened and lifted Edward from the ground, his feet flailing.

"No!" I screeched, launching upright in my bed, waking from my nightmare.

The sheet I had seen on CNN that was covered in blood haunted me; it flapped around in the invisible breeze in my mind. It covered me as I slept and I unintentionally wrapped my hands in it as I tossed and turned unable to remove it from my dreams. I awoke countless times that first night since I mentally awoke after seeing Edward alive—shaking and sobbing muffled screams through the suffocating sheets. I had screamed my throat raw in desperation and yet no one had come to check on me. It was a sad commentary on how regular it was for a girl to scream in the middle of the night due to night terrors in this establishment. It was almost as unnerving as my dreams.

My restless night ended when Nurse Emily woke me at seven in the morning.

"Isabella? Did you want to take a shower before breakfast this morning?" she asked in a hopeful tone.

"Err," I groaned and sat up in my bed, releasing my strangle hold on my twisted-up sheets. "Do I ever?" I asked not-so-politely.

"Well, I just thought that maybe… since you wanted to prove that you're better…" she nearly stuttered. Oh that's right, I thought.

"Fine. Yeah, I'll take a shower. Oh—hey Emily? Do you know where my makeup is?"

"It's in the outer compartment of your suitcase. Didn't you look?"

"Oh, no not there, and… do you know where my, uhm, engagement ring is?" I picked at my cuticles, embarrassed for some reason that I needed to ask for it.

"Isabella, we don't usually allow such types of jewelry in the ward…"

"Emily! It's my engagement ring! I'm trying for a sense of normalcy here and that's my normal!" I interrupted. "I mean, come on, how many girls have you had that are engaged? Probably none. Shit, I shouldn't be here!" I moaned and covered my face in my hands.

"Calm down Isabella. Maybe you can ask Dr. Laurent, OK? Let's just get you into the shower before the OCD ladies use all of the warm water."

.::.

"Holy fuck, B! You're at breakfast?" Tanya gasped, nearly spitting out her decaf coffee as I descended to the chair next to hers and across from Victoria's. At New Moon, caffeine was considered a drug. Most of the patients here didn't need any more stimulation, they hypothesized.

"Yeah, apparently. I'm, uh, back from the dead or something," I tried to smile, but it was all a little foreign to me still. It didn't feel as good as it did yesterday when Edward's presence was so fresh.

"Hmm," Victoria paused, "hopefully you'll stop looking constipated when you smile and more like you're happy, soon." She teased.

I muttered, "Bitch," under my breath.

"That's more like it!" They both cheered in unison. Embarrassing, definitely embarrassing, I thought.

"Bella, all you are going to eat is half a grapefruit and a pancake? Jesus, fuck. You're eating less than Jane." Tanya shot a devilish look down our table to the petite, gaunt, short-haired blonde sitting with the other disordered eating girls. Jane was so malnourished, more so than me, that she had started sprouting this light peach-fuzz like hair all over her body. In group, we had learned that it was called lanugo and it was a disgusting sight to see.

"Shut up, Tanya," Jane called back from her perch. I eyed Jane's plate and saw only two grapes.

"You're looking a little fat today, Jane. I think you ate one carrot too-many yesterday."

"Fuck off Tanya. Just go suck-off another orderly and get fat off of his jizz that you so whore-ishly swallow," Jane oozed bitter resentment. She looked as though she was about to unravel right then and there.

"Aww, Janie. Did I… strike a nerve?" Tanya taunted, the corner of her lips ghosting a smile.

Just before the scene escalated Nurse Leah came over to stand behind Jane.

"Jane, I told you to go up and get an orange and a pancake. Do I need to tell Dr. Gerandy that you're not performing your behavior modification?" she softly threatened.

"Uh… no. It's just that my stomach is small. I don't need that much food…" Jane qualified, attempting to rationalize her petulance.

"Cut the crap Jane. Pancake. Orange. Now!" Nurse Leah was known for her blunt and forceful ways. I, however, responded better to Emily's tender approach.

"Fine!" Jane screeched, and shot up out of her chair toward the food line.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked, turning back to Tanya and Victoria in our own private discussion.

"B, you should have heard her in the shower this morning. She was making fun of your screams last night… I couldn't say anything then, but I couldn't miss my chance now," Tanya leveled.

"Wha-what? Are you fucking kidding me?" I gasped.

"Paha! Yeah! Hell, if she had been talking trash, I would have decked her right then and there! I, however, didhear your screams during the night," she giggled.

"You are truly a psycho," Victoria huffed, to which Tanya merely smiled her playful no shit smile.

"Oh god," I sighed, "and you wonder why I don't come to breakfast or spend more time with your crazy ass." I rolled my eyes.

"Bella… it's good to finally meet you," Tanya greeted in all seriousness and this time I actually smiled.

"I wish I could say the same…" I teased.

"So Bella, when do we get to meet that hottie fiancé of yours?" Victoria inquired, changing the subject.

The moment felt magical—almost as magical as the moment I realized Edward was still alive. Everything looked different now in the light of day after my awakening. I was acting more like my old self, or at least participating in playful banter. Breakfast passed as quickly as it came and before I became cognizant of it, Nurse Emily was escorting me to the nurses' station to take my morning cocktail of pills and have my vitals checked and then to group therapy. Apparently I was still considered a risk to myself so I was always escorted by a Nurse.

.::.

"Isabella, you're looking well today. Would you care to share why that might be?" Charlotte asked me as soon as everyone around the circle was settled. Dr. Charlotte Turnberry played the role of our group therapist and I usually ignored every insipid word she uttered. She was all about feelings and relating to one-another. It was entirely unfeasible for Charlotte, Char as she liked us to call her, to assume that I could ever relate to such deviants as Jane or Bree the cutter.

"Uhm… I showered today," I gave my non-committal answer.

"Isabella, tsk tsk, you can do better than that," she chastised sweetly.

"Well… uhh… my fiancé is alive. Oh, and hopefully I'll be leaving New Moon today or tomorrow." Gasps, jealous squeaks and squeals sounded around the sharing circle.

"So, because he's alive you assume you can just leave with him?" Char pestered.

"Something like that."

"Who here has any opinions on what Isabella has shared?" she asked the group.

"I do," Lauren-—an anti-social bipolar—-hissed from across the circle. "Isabella moped around here for a month in her own head, ignoring everyone else and having these random-fucking-psychotic episodes all the while judging everyone except herself for being in here and she just expects because her delusions were proved false that she can just leave and skip off into the sunset with her beloved. I mean, hello! The bitch tried to commit suicide in here! She's a total nut-case screaming like she does in her sleep," she concluded. I wanted to rip all of her hair out and choke her with that dull light-brown mop she had on top of her head. Lauren was the most plain-looking person I had ever seen in my life. She had no intrinsic beauty or even any ugly, and she didn't know what hell it was like for me.

"What the fuck, Lo!" Tanya attacked as I opened my mouth to verbally combat Lauren's ridiculous rant. "You're just jealous that you can't make your issues go away. I mean, it must be really hard on mommy and daddy that you're a big fat dyke. That's why they sent you here right? Mr. and Mrs. Mallory couldn't handle a cunt-licker for a daughter? Back off Bella. She had real heartache."

"Ladies, ladies. This is not productive language. Use your feeling words. No attacking please: either of you," Char intervened.

"OK, maybe I should clarify. I believe that I should be allowed to leave because I got better. I wasn't living in a delusional world. It was entirely realistic to believe what CNN reported. I was put here because of my grief and now that I'm not grieving or going to hurt myself I should be able to go home!" I retorted back to the circle after everyone had calmed down from the outbursts of Lauren and Tanya.

"Isabella, now that you are not feeling like a danger to yourself, if you keep up this productive dialogue between us in Group and your private sessions with your therapist, you have every right to leave. Our goal here at New Moon is to help you get to that place. I'm sure your personal therapist will discuss this with you during one-on-ones today, but perhaps you should think about what your family wanted you to get out of being here, hmm? If I were you, I wouldn't be so quick to brush off this opportunity for real healing that you've been given by being put here during this difficult time in your life," Charlotte explained. It took every ounce of rebellion in me to not agree with every word she had said to me. Her tone was so soothing and somehow full of love for me. The way she worded her entire approach it almost was as if she truly could relate to me. Perhaps Char was just extremely good at empathy. Yes, that must be it…

"Thanks Char, but we'll just see. I really don't think I need to be here."

"As always, you are entitled to your own opinion Isabella," Charlotte paused. "Jane!" she called as she looked to Jane's spot a third of the way around the circle from my left, "how is your behavior modification going?" With that, thankfully the topic of me was over for the rest of our group-rape, as Victoria liked to call it. Charlotte touched on many of the other patients' issues. Bree hadn't cut herself in three days, to which she earned applause from the other girls; Jane was eating almost 1,500 calories a day now—although Victoria and Tanya rolled their eyes in disbelief due to Jane's ever present lanugo; Jessica, one of the paranoid schizophrenics in the group, regaled us in an elaborate plot that the orderlies had against female patients—she was carried away screaming. Apparently Jessica had been off her meds for a couple of days because she thought she was being poisoned. It was the first group therapy session that I had ever been cognitively-present for and it was quite an odd experience, at best.

.::.

"Isabella, come in," Dr. Laurent called from the open door to his office. Upon my entering the room, he motioned for me to have a seat on any of his chairs. I opted for the most comfortable couch in the corner near the bay window that was situated behind the beautiful mahogany coffee table, and cautiously sat in it. Dr. Laurent sat opposite me in a plush armchair and stared at me intently with a curious expression. "You're looking quite fresh today, Isabella. It's nice to see you making an effort in your personal hygiene," he said by way of greeting.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment or a greeting?" I retorted.

"Hmm neither, I suppose. It was more of an observation. Good afternoon. How has your day been thus far?" Dr. Laurent's face was nearly unreadable, try as I may. He was being sardonic and I found it... unsettling? No. Perhaps I found it comforting in an odd way because it was so unlike the character I had built him up to be in my mind. In the new light of day, his previously cold and uncaring eyes sparkled foamy-blue again and he no longer seemed to be the monster I had pictured him as.

"Fine… different I guess. Can we talk about me leaving?" I ventured.

"Of course. First, may I explain my actions last night?" he asked, actually asked. I nodded my approval before he continued. "Very well then: last night I thought it in poor judgment for you to leave that evening without—-at the very least—-a session in your therapy group and also with me and, of course, a good night's rest. The decision, however, for you to leave will always be in your rights to make but last night was the first time I had ever seen you not in a near catatonic or self-destructive state and it was within my authority to keep you here for the night. By the end of the day today, however, it will be in your authority to make that decision. Before you make any such decision, might I ask you to consider a few things?"

"Uhh… yeah. I mean, yes," I stuttered. The way he was treating me today was vastly different than he had—-or any health professional at New Moon-—in the past month. It was so enlightening that I actually agreed to hear-out his propositions.

"Isabella, while I no longer think that you are unquestionably a danger to yourself, you still need help. I believe that you can benefit from what we have to offer at New Moon. You are an aspiring chef, correct? Your culinary talents indicate that you are a creative person. Well, although we do not allow our patients to cook—too many dangers of course—I believe that art therapy may be advantageous to you as well as the current medication you are taking and also counseling. We know that you undeniably want to get back home to Edward as soon as possible and that is completely natural. Edward, however, is not even home himself yet."

"What?" I asked in shock. Edward and I hadn't even had a chance to discuss what was happening now that he was home.

"Yes, he is staying with his sister I believe, along with his parents. Edward still can't care for himself yet completely and is continuing his intense physical therapy now that he is back in Seattle. It will be a little while yet before Edward can care for himself. Isabella, you yourself can hardly care for your own wellbeing. You just started eating yesterday, and your nerves are still frazzled. Perhaps until you both are ready to be thriving independent individuals again, you would consider staying here and working through your mental and physical health while Edward gets the physical help he needs."

"You mean, you want me to choose to stay here when I could be home with Edward?"

"See, Isabella: you're not thinking rationally, again. Edward isn't at your home. Do you want to burden him and the rest of the Cullens while you are recuperating? You can't help him right now in your physical state, not to mention your psychological state as well. Isabella, you can't even push his wheelchair more than a few feet. Try to process this without your emotions but with logic instead," Dr. Laurent sighed.

"But… but, nothing makes sense without him!" I cried. I tried to do as he asked, after all he was treating me so decently compared to before, but I couldn't separate the decision from my desire to be with Edward.

"You're proving my point, Isabella. Think rationally about what you just said. You are basically insinuating that even though you now know that your fiancé is alive you can't temporarily live without him in the same facility-—or home-—without falling apart, is that correct?"

"Well, I-—it's just been so long since we've been together."

"Isabella! You're not focusing. You're not thinking rationally. What you're indicating to me is that you don't feel like your life is worth it without him, like you don't know who you are without Edward. This is something you can work on. Do you want to be the absolute best that you can be for him, for yourself?"

"Well, yes! Of course I want to be the best I can be for him… what are you trying to say?" He was confusing me and I was starting to doubt my resolve to go home. Had I actually become nothing but a shell of a person that was temporarily filled with my love for Edward instead of my own substance? Right now I had no passion-—not even for cooking—only for Edward, but was it enough. Was Dr. Soigner right? Should I try to better myself completely, if not for myself, then for Edward? Maybe I was just a crazy person that was easily swayed or perhaps Dr. Laurent was the first person to approach my condition, as everyone kept referring to, with my welfare in mind and what I truly wanted.

"Isabella, I think you already know what I'm trying to say. I think that you should try to stay here for a few days, if not a week or more, and attend your group sessions, our private sessions, and your new art therapy sessions so you can deal with these deep-seeded long persisting issues before you and Edward commit yourselves to each other permanently and take on the responsibility someday of other lives. That is what I'm trying to say."

"Dr. Laurent, I—I don't know what I want to do. I feel so lost. I feel as though it's admitting defeat by staying here. I'm not crazy, I know I'm not… something's wrong with me," I paused as my head started to spin. I felt dizzy with this decision. Previously I had been a rational person but now, after everything, I wasn't sure if I trusted myself anymore. "Why can't I make this decision? It should be easy. I should say I want to go home… that's what a sane person would do…"

"No, Isabella, a sane person would weigh all of the options along with what is a responsible, adult course of action to take. I think your conscience as gotten the better of your volatile-—pardon the expression-—emotions. You're thinking rationally, now. You're not in your dark place anymore, Isabella. It's OK to admit you need help. In my opinion, you've been needing to talk to someone and work through some things that you've repressed for a long time… there's no time like the present."

Repressing? What would I be repressing? Feelings of what? The only tough thing—other than this episode of almost losing Edward—I had ever dealt with was my parent's divorce and I had I had gotten through that just fine. Yes, it was hard on me and I was sad that my parents were no longer together but I had never let them see me upset: no one had, not even Edward. I had remembered being so mad at my dad for letting my mom leave like that with me. She left our happy family behind and I never felt the same. Again, in my mind, she left me to my own devices when she fell in love with Phil when I was 15. She chose him over me and that hurt enough for me to move all the way to dreary, wet Forks, Washington; I left her before she could leave me again. Living with Charlie was comforting but he wasn't around a lot between work and his fishing trips. It felt like everyone was always leaving me. Even Edward had left me for Paris—I practically forced him to go. What was I trying to prove? Why did I push him to go?... Holy Shit! I did have a fear of abandonment!

"Oh. My… god." I exhaled.

"Isabella?"

"I cannot believe I'm about to say this, but… I think you're right. I do have a fear of abandonment… real or imagined," and without my consent, my eyes started to leak tears of sorrow. I didn't know what my sorrow was for, but it was there all the same. "I'll stay for a little while I guess… but under one condition," I paused and waited for his nod of acknowledgement. "I want to be allowed to wear my engagement ring."

"I suppose I can agree to allow that. Isabella that was an incredible breakthrough you just had. I'm very proud of you… I knew you had it in you. We can conclude there for the day, if you'd like. I'll see you tomorrow," he decided.

"Bella. Call me Bella."

.::.

"Bella!" Alice greeted on the other line. "I'm so glad you're calling! I was going to take Edward to come see you after his physical therapy today. What time should I drop him off?"

"Around 3:30, after my art therapy," I replied to my future sister-in-law and maid of honor.

"Fabulous! That works out perfectly. He should be done by then." She cheered into the phone. Alice was always the same chipper person in virtually any conversation.

"Oh, and Alice… Dr. Laurent told me that I wasn't checked-in with an engagement ring. Bring that too. It's high time I start showing it off around this place."

"Oh thank GOD! I'm finally rubbing off on you!"

.::.

While walking to the art room unaccompanied, a multitude of emotions coursed through my veins. Some new, some old, but mostly they were overwhelming. I was completely ecstatic that Dr. Laurent had moved me up to a level 2 from a level 1 patient which meant that I didn't have to be escorted everywhere and that I also didn't have to be locked in my room at night in-between nurses' checks. Freedom wasn't something I was used to at New Moon and the new-found phone privileges were a definite perk. The thought of staying here made me feel defeated and unsure of myself. My consuming love for Edward was ever present. Now, however, I felt the bubbling sense of anxiety because I was heading into the unknown; I didn't know when I'd be home with Edward again. Surrendering myself entirely to the care of the myriad of doctors, nurses and other staff, I proceeded forward with my treatment in the hopes of surfacing from this experience better for it than even before Edward had left for Paris.

Chapter 4: Wolves

Chapter 4: Wolves

BPOV

Food was practically shoved at me by Charlie and Alice. If I hadn't been on Edward's lap, he too would have been forcing nourishment upon me. For the first time in god knows how long, I was actually hungry when I saw the delicious spread before me: garlic mashed potatoes, mushroom ravioli, tortilla chips and guacamole, chocolate-frosted chocolate cupcakes, and sparkling grape juice—all of my favorites. What on earth could they have been celebrating in this loony bin? Yes, Edward was home but couldn't they wait until we both were to throw a little party? The red, green, and gold presents in the corner were completely unnecessary.

"Bella, I'm so glad you like my garlic mashed potatoes. Charlie told me I should make them for you, he was right: you do devour them!" Sue laughed, visibly less-upset with me now that I was eating again. She was the one that had always been hard on me when Charlie couldn't.

"They're so good!" I said with my mouth full of the goodness that was mashed-potatoes. I kept eating them readily while the room was filled with delighted non-distinct chatter. Everyone's moods had been lifted incredibly since last I saw them. It was most definitely because of Edward's return from Europe alive.

"So, other than Edward's return, what are we celebrating?" I asked in-between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes, my curiosity piquing. It was the only thing I could keep down because everything else was so rich and I hadn't eaten much recently, and Sue was right—they were my favorite.

"Christmas. You both missed it!" Alice chirped. What!

"What!" I replied skeptically. Wasn't Christmas ages ago? Why did it matter now that I had missed something so long ago?… How long had I been here at New Moon?

"Well, Edward was still in France, trying to get the doctor's approval for travel, and you were… here. We all tried to come see you at Christmas but you didn't even know what day it—," Alice was cut off, abruptly.

"Alice!" Esme hissed. "That is not the way to approach these fragile topics!" She berated. I became aware of everyone's eyes on me, their faces filled with pity. My gaze darted around like a kitten cornered. It became unbearably uncomfortable, so I hid my face in the crook of Edward's neck as his arms wrapped around me in protection.

"Maybe we should start with explanations after all," Edward suggested, always my hero. It felt as if we had never been apart because it was so easy for us to be together, and yet as though we had both been through war and back: separated for too long. The two conflicting feelings were hard to stomach together. Silently, I nodded into his neck, showing my agreement.

"I suppose I'll start," Carlisle said after a few moments' silence.

"Wait! Before you do, answer me this: when was Christmas?" I asked, removing my head from its hiding place.

"Two weeks ago," Carlisle stated.

"…how long have I been in here?" It suddenly occurred to me that my mind just might have been playing tricks on me after all.

"One month." When Carlisle said that, my stomach dropped. Had I been well-nourished, it might have been more noticeable that my face paled.

"Bella," Charlie called to me from his seat at the table, "I've been to see you every day, don't you remember?" His words pained me as they were full of such devotion and heartache.

"Not six months?" I whispered aloud, to no one in particular other than myself. Crazy people always talked to themselves, right? I was playing the part better than I knew. "You mean, dad… you didn't visit once or twice a week?" Charlie and Carlisle's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as did everyone else's that I could see. It finally dawned on them just how utterly lost I had been since Edward's crash. Even now, with his gloriously strong and protective arms around me, I had become accustomed to expecting the worst. Before, I had never thought previously about what would happen if Edward and I couldn't be together; it just wasn't feasible. Now, that's all I could think about. What if he didn't want me anymore? What if I was too damaged for him now? What if he meets another woman and falls in love because I've become inadequate due to my craziness? My insides rolled and I had to fight the vomit that rose in my throat. It was hard to breathe—the air was too thick. I was trying to stave off my anxiety attack that I knew was coming by taking slow and calculated breaths but Carlisle's voice interrupted it—thank god… or, whoever. Thank Carlisle.

"It's understandable how it felt longer than that. It certainly has felt longer for the rest of us—the longest two months of our lives," he comforted. I didn't want to freak out, not now when I had been doing so well all afternoon since re-arriving to the visitor's lounge. Our eyes met and I nodded, hoping that Dr. Cullen understood that I meant to continue with the story. The longer it was drawn out the more agony each minute seemed to accumulate. It was intolerable.

"I'll start where you left off—after Alice and Jasper called the ambulance," when he said that I shuddered into Edward as I felt him palpably stiffen, "they called me. I knew that no matter what you could have taken, you would be in no condition to fly the next day—not to mention that the hospital wouldn't have released you until the mandatory 72-hour suicide hold was up, so I immediately changed the flight to my name instead of yours. I sat at the hospital with everyone for as long as I could before I had to go to the airport.

"While in the hospital's waiting room and the airport's terminal, I made many calls to the U.S. Embassy in Paris as well as to the Police force and several possible hospitals that Edward could have been transported to. It was all in vain, as I ended up flying to Paris to find my son with only blind hope. The first day, I physically went to the Embassy, the hospitals, and to their police headquarters but I got nothing. They all refused to talk to me. Despite having credentials, they thought I was some reporter, trying to get the scoop about the American student that no one else could. After a couple weeks of my persistence, and once Edward was lucid from his many surgeries, they finally let me see him having been convinced of who I was," he sighed, the exhaustion of it all clear in his voice. "I was just delighted that once they told me I could see him, it wasn't in the morgue."

"That was while you were in a coma, Bella," Carlisle clarified. I nodded and felt Edward's arms tense around me as if they could erase the past two months before his hand started to rub small comforting circles on my back. It was still hard for me to accept the fact that it had only been two months that I had been deprived of Edward while living in my own personal Hell on Earth. Edward kissed my forehead when Carlisle continued. "I phoned Esme right away and let her talk to Edward," he paused to kiss her hand that he was holding. "We all decided that it would be for the best not to tell you anything until you were well or at least in a better place to deal with everything. Edward had a few weeks of major physical therapy to get to where the doctors would allow him to fly half-way around the world, not to mention that he needed to be comfortable and able to fly without pain.

"While you were sedated, I had done a lot of conferring with Charlie and Esme over the phone and I told them about New Moon Psychiatric Facility. Edward was against the idea, but you needed help that no one but professionals could intensely in a safe environment give you. We had been hoping that you would have been helped by the time Edward was able to come home. He and I flew in yesterday and that, briefly, brings us up to the present," he finished. I thought there was going to be more to the story and it almost felt as though he was hiding something from me.

"Uhm, OK," I said while nodding. I turned to Edward, my beloved, and kissed his cheek. "So what happened to you? When do you get out of this wheelchair, baby?" I teased. Edward's face became a mask of pain and his blood ran cold with my, apparently, unfunny joke. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" I don't know what I had meant. My crazy was fucking with my mind again. I needed to remember myself… or find myself again. Everyone's eyes in the room immediately found something interesting on the floor and stared at it. Tension started to suffocate the already elephant-filled room.

"It's OK Bella. I—never. The doctors don't think I'll ever get out of this wheelchair. I might be paralyzed permanently," his voice cracked. My eyes flooded with fresh tears that didn't pause at the rim, but spilled like a flowing river. It didn't matter to me if Edward couldn't walk, as long as we had our love, I would be fine with almost any future. My only thought was selfish: how much of Edward was paralyzed.

"Is everything paralyzed from the waist down?" My voice cracked through the never-ending stream of tears. I had no shame anymore in crying, in fact I saw it as the sanest thing I did as of late.

"I don't know, Bella… it's not like I've been able to figure that out… you've been here," he whispered the last part. This conversation was getting extremely private and very fast. "If …it is, then we'll figure something else out, children-wise…" he informed me, his voice full of suffering.

"…I won't be able to have the hoards of little Edwards!" I screeched. My life, in the past two months, was spiraling painfully and irrevocably into Hell. I launched my body the few inches between us into his chest and clung there helplessly. "We need to talk in private," I sobbed, "now!"

"OK… uhh… you're room?" He stated in question form. I hopped off his lap, effectively showing him my reply.

"Excuse us, everyone," I called to the room filled with my other guests. Attempting to push his wheelchair, I made it only a few feet before exhaustion threatened to collapse my body. Alice was the first to react.

"Hop on, I'll drive ya!" She chirped. It was a sweet gesture, but it saddened me regardless. Edward couldn't walk and I couldn't even push him because I was so weak. Everything was falling apart. Gingerly, I sat on his lap again even though this time I knew he couldn't feel it. Alice wheeled us into my room and left after closing the door behind her. A saddened expression had overtaken her usually cheerful face.

"I'm glad to see they gave you a single-room. I would hate for you to be stuck in a room with an insane person," Edward said, making small-talk. I, however, was nothaving it.

"OK, let's try!" I said as I hopped off his lap. He stared at me like I had a horn growing from my head. "Edward, I'm serious. I want to see if your dick works. Now, help me get you into my bed. Or, if you prefer, I can ride you in your chair… oh that's kinky…" My crazy rant was compliments of the time I had been spending with my sex-crazed mental-institution friends.

"Bella, no. You're so frail; you can't even push a wheelchair without possibly passing out. Sex, is not a feasible idea right now."

"Is that it? I'm too thin for you now?"

"No! I always want you!"

"Just not right now…is it because I'm crazy? I'm… not!" I didn't sound so convinced of myself.

"You don't sound so sure… but no! We're not not-having sex right now because you think you're crazy. That's preposterous."

"What is it Edward? Do you… not love me anymore?" I sobbed.

"Don't be ridiculous. I love you … more than the air I breathe. I promised you I'd make it back to you and here I am. Every moment of grueling and painful physical therapy I only thought of you, speeding it up so I could see you sooner. Right now is not the time to make love for the first time since we've been apart…"

"How about a blowjob, that's not physically taxing on me."

"Bella…"

"Edward. I've been living in my own personal hell for two months thinking you're dead. I need to touch you, to feel you in my mouth. I need to see if we can still make pretty babies—our pretty babies. I want to make you feel good… you've been through hell and back yourself. Please Edward?" He contemplated it for a moment, his face showing warring emotions.

"Bella… I just, I feel as though I'm taking advantage of you in your condition."

"What condition? I'm in here because I thought you were dead. Clearly I can't survive without you."

"You… you know, you tried to… I can't say it. You didn't even confirm if I was dead," he whispered.

"CNN told me you were! I saw them cover you with a white, bloodied sheet! That spells dead to me! It's not like you dying makes a girl rational…"

"I know I'm sorry. It's just… well, although I never thought you were dead, I did have a nervous breakdown because the thought of you doing that… it does bad things to me, so the topic just makes me more than a little anxious."

"Well, let's prove how alive and well we are now by letting me give you a glorious blowjob. Edward, it's happening." I huffed. He regarded me for another moment, before rolling his eyes and nodding.

"Let's see if I can get it up…" He sounded embarrassed as he said that. As soon as he conceded, I walked over to the door and locked it. It would only keep non-staff people out, because if the staff wanted in they had keys. Sensuously, I turned around towards him with my back against the door. I licked my lips because I knew he liked it when I did that. Seeing what it did in his eyes, I hummed in satisfaction—a low guttural sound. Slowly, with calculated steps, I walked towards my fiancé. A slow-burning fire ignited in his eyes that hungrily burned brighter with every step I took. It was difficult to not avert my eyes at his crotch, looking to see if he arose to the occasion or not yet. Walking and licking my lips were the least of the tricks I had up my sleeves; I hadn't even touched him yet.

"Mmm, I have no doubts about the talents of your cock," I whispered, deeply. He let out a low growl, inevitably turned on. After dating him for five years, four of them being fully sexually intimate, I knew his tells. I was also pretty sure he had never heard me use the word cock, well wasn't I just full of surprises. Being stuck in a loony bin with ridiculously horny and near-sexual-deviants had a few perks: a girl learned how to dirty talk. This, of course, was the first time I even considered doing it after the whole Paris-mixup.

"Oh Bella," he exhaled, slow and deep, "you've got a newly-filthy mouth. I want to feel that…" he winked. I loved it when he did that: I could feel my girly parts tingle with excitement. If only he'd let me mount him—I swear he'd be oh-so-willing to have sex, my current frailty ignored.

"Oh you will, don't you worry baby. The one good thing about being a new card-carrying member of a big ol' bag of crazy, I've got many things in that bag: I'll make you feel so good, it's been so long since I've tasted you…" I licked my lips again and tugged at my bottom lip with my teeth. I was turning myself on; it was such a foreign feeling. Two months is an awfully long time to be devoid of a sex-drive. Closing the few feet's distance left between us, I was finally able to touch him again. My body reacted immediately: heart pounding, panties soaking, skin tingling—it was amazing. Time had not dimmed our physical connection we shared just as death had not.

My hands were placed on either cheek, as I brought my lips to his. It was slow and sweet at first, but quickly accelerated as our months upon months of need all stacked up and nearly exploded. Our hands were all over each other: feeling and touching, healing and loving each other with our touches. Finally, I couldn't take the suspense anymore—not having cheated and peeked at his crotch—I moved my hands and unbuttoned his jeans and agonizingly slowly—for us—pulled down the zipper. Because I hadn't used my eyes for confirmation of a hard-on, I wasn't quite sure yet. Before I could even get my hands on his boxers or look for an erection, Edward's voice startled me.

"Bella!" He called, eyes wide. At first I found the look confusing, but as usual for us, we could communicate with each other without words and I knew why he had called my name in surprise. I pulled down his boxers and out flopped the most gloriously erect penis ever. We shared an intimate smile for a few moments before either of us made a move or a sound.

"I knew you could get hard for me," I winked. "I love you," I threw in at the end. His face was alight with pride and almost all of the anxiety that had been there before had melted away in the wake of his boner. It was laughable that two engaged adults could get so excited over such a simple thing as an erection, but to us it meanteverything. It meant that our future was still intact. "Now let's make you come, baby!" I cheered. I felt a little like how Alice would be if… OK well my thoughts wouldn't let me go there, but I imagined that Alice would cheer like that. Edward chuckled from deep within his gut—a truly wonderful sound. I kissed his deliciously kissable lips as my hand traveled south found the most beautifully hard dick the earth had ever seen. Our lips parted and our tongues battled out our fiery passion. Breaking the kiss, my lips traveled south as well, kissing soft yet intense kisses across his jaw, down his neck, nipping at his collar bone and the length of his torso on the bare skin that I had revealed after unbuttoning his plaid, collared shirt. Being intimate with Edward set Earth spinning on its correct axis again. It was as though I knew that suddenly the world had righted itself: food had taste, the air held its sweetness, and the sun would rise in the morning.

Before fully taking Edward's member into my mouth, I licked around the head, teasing him. While I wasn't going to tantricly torture him, I did want to give him an intense orgasm. Tasting his precum that began leaking from the tip of his penis my juices started flowing in anticipation. I knew that Edward couldn't reciprocate—his current position embarrassing enough without figuring out the maneuvering of him trying to get me off—but it still made me hornier than hell to taste him. Looking up at him through my lashes while my mouth was wrapped around the head of his dick, it twitched when he and I made eye contact. This is going to be easy, I thought.

Concentrating at my task at hand, I began to suck on the tip while circling my tongue in languid circles around it, feeling him stiffen even more as moans of pleasure escaped from his lips. When I had my fill with teasing him, I took him into my mouth as far as I could while my tongue traced the underside of his penis with pointed pressure, adding more friction. Once his dick was sufficiently saturated with his precum and my saliva, I added one of my hands to the mix. Usually, I liked the challenge of getting him off with using only my mouth, but today didn't feel like one of those bang-me-against-the-wall type days, although every day really should be. In the same pumping motion, my hand matched the pace of my mouth that had started to speed up as I felt Edward getting closer to release. While I tongued his frenulum on the underside of the head, Edward slightly shuddered, showing how aroused he was.

"Oh Bella," he moaned in his lusty voice, "you have got a serious talent with that mouth—uhhh. I missed you so much." I kept my pace, and started to lightly grip and play with his balls as I knew he was about orgasm. "Shit—I'm going to cum!" He growled. I moaned with my mouth around his dick, adding a vibrating sensation around his dick just before he released hot spurts of himself into the back of my throat. I swallowed it graciously, thinking in the back of my mind how it would make me stronger with all of that protein in it. It took everything for my deranged brain not to laugh aloud alerting Edward to my crazy conjectures. I mean, honestly, who thinks about their fiancé's jizz making them stronger? Insane people: that's who. I licked my lips and thought about brushing my teeth—there was no need to go back to our family with semen-breath. Again with the bizarre thoughts!, I internally chastised myself. When Edward's lazy, lustily lidded eyes finally opened, ours connected again and my cheeks slightly flushed. No matter how often or much we had experienced sexually together, I always blushed. This time though, Edward didn't comment on my blush like he usually did. It must have been because my skin was so tinged with malnourishment that any sort of blush would have indicated me to be healthy—quite the opposite of the current reality.

"I can't wait until I can see you blush again," Edward said, calling me from my thoughts and confirming what I had been thinking. I had truly let myself go. For most women that meant getting fatter, becoming lazy, and not making an effort at all with their clothes and appearance. For me, it meant not eating, not dressing myself at all, and going bat-shit crazy.

"I did. You just can't see it…" He brought his hand to rest on my cheek after I said that.

"Hmm… your cheek is warm, Bella," he observed. "Perhaps we should get you back to the little party so you can eat some more."

"Why? I'm already full of you," I teased. The answering look on Edward's face was pricelessly hilarious: shocked, confused, aroused, and amused. He guffawed and gave me my favorite half-smile of his.

"Bella, since when are you a bit raunchy?" He asked in a low chuckle.

"If I wasn't so confused about time right now, I could tell you. I'm not sure when the exact moment occurred, though it was probably over the course of the past month in here. Victoria and Tanya have rubbed off on me…" My answer was extremely honest and perhaps one that he wasn't expecting. If I had been using my brain, I would have realized it had been a rhetorical question.

"Oh? Who are they?"

"Fellow in-mates, I mean: patients."

"Well, love, we do have a lot of catching up to do."

"Two-months' worth, or so I'm told."

.::.

My family gathering, that was later joined by Jasper, Rose, and Emmett, was finally coming to a close around, what I was told, seven pm—when visiting hours ended. It confused me that we had stayed there for the duration of the party, that they hadn't taken me home yet but I figured they wanted me to eat something and show signs of normalcy before we could leave.

"OK, well you guys can take me home now! Let's get me checked-OUT!" I teased to my remaining visitors: Charlie and Sue, Dr. Cullen with Esme, and Edward. Nurse Emily had just come in the room as I exclaimed my desire to leave.

"Well Bella, if you want to be discharged then you have to meet with Dr. Soigner so he can do the discharge interview and paperwork. You can only leave with a doctor's permission now, since you signed the admittance paperwork," she stated in a very professional way, unlike how she usually was with me.

"Why didn't we do this before?" I asked not only Emily, but my family as well. No one's eyes met mine, except for my Edward.

"You know how Alice is, she wanted to have a party here so she did just that," he said to me before turning to Emily who had been standing in the doorway. "Nurse Emily, might we go see Dr. Soigner now?" he charmingly asked. He was trying to dazzle her to get his way, something that he was very good at.

"Oh—of course Mr. Cullen. I'll just call him from the nurse's station. He's usually here until 7:30, so we're catching him right in-time for a meeting," she chattered before walking off briskly to make her phone call. I could tell she was attracted to him, but I didn't feel any jealousy. I was used to other women being attracted to my man; he was devastatingly beautiful so of course she would be attracted to him: everyone was.

.::.

Once in Dr. Laurent's office, I sat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk and Esme in the other while Edward was wheeled in-between us. Carlisle stood behind Esme, resting his hands on her shoulders while Charlie stood behind me as I held Edward's hand. Sue had said that she had a few things to take care of so she went to go do them elsewhere.

"So, where are these release papers? I would like to go home with my fiancé tonight," I stated, smiling. Dr. Laurent eyed me curiously. Admittedly, he had never seen me so lucid or so much life in my eyes. To him, previously had I been out of touch with reality: hallucinating and now he probably thought the death of Edward was a delusion of mine when in all actuality it was an oversight on the part of CNN. I could allow myself to get frustrated, but what I really wanted to do was to go home finally and sleep in the same bed with the man I had been missing for the past five months.

"Well, let's talk Isabella," Dr. Soigner suggested. Even through his French accent, I knew what his tone was saying. He was about to deny me exit. I was excellent at reading people. "Why should you suddenly be able to leave?" he asked, full-well knowing why.

"Seriously? Edward's alive. I'm never going to try to kill myself again."

"Until next time you think he's dead, or actually is," Dr. Laurent stated. His quizzical light-brown colored brow furrowed in accusation and I didn't know how to answer that.

"Uhm… no," I retorted less-forcefully than the first time. "Everything's fine now. I would like to go home with my family." Looking around to my surrounding family members, they all had pained expressions and… a hint of guilt? Edward's hand tightened around mine and I had the answer I was searching for. "… You're not going to let me leave, are you?" My father gripped my shoulders in apology before I even got confirmation on my random assumption.

"Very perceptive, Isabella; I can see that even in the past few hours you have recovered yourself quite a bit. But, no, I can't allow you to leave tonight."

"Why not? You said so yourself I've recovered."

"Not one-hundred percent, no, and perhaps only from this particular episode. Your psychosis still lingers and left untreated could be disastrous," he concluded. He so easily dismissed my leaving. It infuriated me.

"Oh, and other than attempted suicide, what could that be, huh? Why do you have such a problem with letting me leave? I'm not crazy; I shouldn't be here!" I yelled, I was losing my grip on my temper, but I couldn't condemn myself for it.

"Did you want me to tell you your diagnosis?" He coolly questioned. My little outburst hadn't even fazed him. Either he was treating me like I was just another crazy-patient, or he truly didn't care. Suddenly, instead of crystal-clear blue eyes, I saw cold, uncaring eyes. Instead of his naturally calm demeanor, I saw heartlessness.

"Yes. That's what I want," I stated just as coolly.

"As you wish," he replied, which reminded me of Wesley in The Princess Bride. He sort of looked like him too, plus a French accent and minus the Robin-Hood/pirate-type getup. I also liked Dr. Laurent a whole-lot less. He fiddled with a manila folder full of papers on his desk, opening it and found one of interest before taking it out and placing it on top of the rest. After regarding it for a moment or two, presumably re-reading his notes, he began to speak again. "Isabella Marie Swan, age 22, two attempted suicides by overdosing on prescription medications; the second resulting in an extensive three-week hospitalization, the first two of which were spent in a medically-induced coma. Isabella shows signs of severe fear of abandonment and separation anxiety. She also has acute delusions and hallucinations possibly pertaining to the extreme fear of abandonment. Unwillingness to accept help for her conditions and denies said conditions. Shows symptoms pertaining to Borderline Personality Disorder and Generalized Anxiety not otherwise specified. Isabella was institutionalized after the suicide attempts in the wake of the belief that her fiancé was killed in a crash. Attempted suicide a third time while in the institution by hoarding the pills she had been given and taking them all at once—Isabella, need I go on?" I sniffed back a few tears that lingered in my eyes, not realizing that I had started to cry, again. Edward rubbed small, reassuring circles with the pad of this thumb on the back of my hand.

"No. Dr. Soigner," I paused, swallowing back the pain of hearing all of that before continuing. "None of that is me except for the name, age, and suicide attempts. The rest of that you have gotten wrong.

Edward's alive now. I'm not anxious over his death anymore. Before, I had been given wrong information. Do I need to apologize or something? I'm perfectly sane. This place, however—keeping me in here is enough to make a sane person crazy." I looked around the office to search for support in faces of my loved ones, but instead I found purposely-masked, apathetic faces. I was being thrown to the wolves of New Moon by the ones I loved the most.

"Isabella, although I do agree that here now is the most well-adjusted that I've seen you, an apology will not reverse your condition. So, no, I do not require any sort of an apology. Perhaps in a therapy session with your family you might wish to offer one then. You can't just stop being something that you are—you have to work through your issues. Until you do so, I cannot on good conscience release you. Dr. Cullen, here, agrees with me." Upon hearing his name spoken I turned my head to look at Carlisle and saw him visibly stiffen. My jaw clamped together at his mutinous actions.

"Bella," Carlisle tried to amend, "We only thought that a couple more days here, with intensive therapy and getting a stable foundation, would be beneficial to you."

"For the record, Bella," my Edward spoke while gazing directly into my eyes with a please understand me look, "I disagree. I want you to come home now." Nodding, I showed my conviction and trust in his words.

"Edward, you can't possibly care for her in her condition while in yours," Esme interrupted. "You don't know what she was like… how empty her eyes got, how hopeless we all felt around her. She's not well, Eddie. Unless she goes to therapy, no amount of wishing will make her better." It wasn't until I heard Esme speak out against me that I even noticed the tension between her and my Edward. It had been apparent all evening in only Edward's eyes and body language. She, after all, was so thrilled that her Eddie was home she couldn't even be upset that he wanted his fiancée home with him when she didn't.

"She is just fine—as fine as this sort of situation warrants! I'm alive damn it and now she finally knows! Of course she didn't believe all of you when you told her I was fine at first—it wasn't because of her 'delusions'. Just think for a moment, if you will: even if I weren't alive, if I hadn't survived being hit by that car, what would you do to convince her life was worth living? You would still sing the same tune: he's fine, he'll be fine, and everything will be worked out soon. Traumatic events don't necessarily make a person saner. Fine, maybe she does need counseling; I'm certain we all do. She can still come home and get that. No wonder she has abandonment issues! You just want to abandon her here and make her someone else's problem. Well she's not a problem! She's my fiancée, damn it!" Edward paused thoughtfully before continuing, "... What kind of man proposes and then leaves their fiancée for four months intentionally? I… I did abandon her and you can't make me do it again tonight!" Edward ranted so thoroughly, at that moment there was no way on earth that I could deny his love for me, even in my craziest hour. I felt so bad for the guilt he was feeling that I leaned over and kissed his cheek, showing that I loved him and it wasn't his fault. Once again, I was thankful for our own means of wordless communication.

"No, Eddie, no. She needs to be here." Esme cooed soothingly to her only son.

"…For at least a few days, Edward. They should make sure she's stable," Carlisle added on to his wife's statement.

"Bells," my dad spoke for the first time since arriving in Dr. Laurent's office, "You know we didn't abandon you here. I've been to visit every day. I love you… I just want my little girl to get better. If I had my way, you could leave right now… but that includes none of this have ever happening which is just not realistic sweetie." Charlie tried to soothe me which had been working up until he told me that because of everything that had happened I had to stay here.

"No. If you loved me, you'd want me to leave. How can a place full of the clinically and criminally insane make me better? These people here, influencing me and whatnot, will only harm me in the long run. I need to be home, safe, with my fiancé, the man that I would be willing to die for. How is that unstable?" I questioned.

"Isabella, are you trying to tell me that you are easily influenced?" Dr. Laurent tried to distract me.

"No! But they're not good company to keep."

"Either they will influence you to do bad things, or you can withstand them. Which is it?"

"Stop trying to play mind games with me 'Soigner. I shouldn't be here!"

"Also in your file Isabella, it says mood instability. Right now you're not proving your point. I'm sorry, but all of this arguing and malnourishment—another reason to keep you in this hospital setting—must be making you exhausted, as is evident in your drooping eye lids. It's about time for your nightly meds as is. We can resume conversation in our session tomorrow. From now on with your new-found lucidity, in keeping with your wish to go home as soon as possible, I will try to meet with you every day. Now is the time for parting," he paused before outstretching his hand, "Thank you, Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, for coming in. Mr. Swan, it was a pleasure seeing you as always—I'll be sure to contact Mr. Jenks with that information you requested. Edward, I'm so glad to have finally met you and am as thrilled as Bella that you are in fact alive and well," he said while shaking their hands. He was nothing if not respectful to those that paid the bills of his patients. At that moment I thought of him as a crook.

.::.

That night, parting with Edward had been just as painful, if not more, than before his flight to Paris. This time, though, he was leaving me in a place that I despised. Again, that night I cried myself to sleep just like I had the first night at New Moon. My head hurt as I tried to piece together everything that had happened that day. My world, previously turned upside down, had righted itself again. Although the moment I had seen Edward I thought that it had been a cure-all—a panacea of the Hell we had been living in—I was wrong because at the end of the night, I was still left here. I still had just as many questions as to what exactly happened to Edward as I had at the beginning of my day. At least I knew that while I slept I wouldn't have the recurring nightmares of Edward's bloody sheet, or I hoped so.

.::.