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.

.::.

Chapter 3: Awake

Chapter 3: Awake

BPOV

Pulled from darkness, I smelled a familiar scent. It was bitter and putrid—why did they always have to use smelling salts? I think I would have rather enjoyed a slap to the face just to feel something again. Opening my eyes, I was blinded by the brightness of the overhead-florescent lights. It took a few moments of blinking to get my eyes to co-operate and to actually see—albeit completely fuzzy. Hands around my arms, shoulders, and waist helped hoist me from my prone position on the floor. Apparently this particular hallucination had been so powerful, I literally fainted from it. I picked my brain for my last memory before blacking-out. Only colors—bronze and green—surfaced in my mind. Nurse Emily spoke to me, but I couldn't decipher her words as she pulled me completely from the ground to stand on my own two-feet. Upon standing, I closed my eyes for a moment to clarify my sight. I felt other hands—hands in addition to Nurse Emily's that sent an electrifying current of tingles and sensation over my skin—on me. I snapped open my eyes and saw his glorious-self in front of me with an arm extended to my waist. It was incredibly disturbing. Stiffening, I clutched at Nurse Emily's side, afraid of what they might do to me when I admitted what I saw.

"Emily! I'm hallucinating again! It's… much more vivid than before!" I screeched. My eyes filled to the brim with tears, and in such a condition I couldn't care less if they spilled out over my cheeks. I was in a mental hospital, who cares if I cry? She moved her mouth as if she was speaking but no sound came out. Eerily, I knew that I truly was hallucinating again. I could never make sense of when I was awake or dreaming anymore. My head felt like it was spiraling out of control and I desperately needed to get a hold of reality.

"Bella, Bella!" a faint voice called to me from outside my delusions. I closed my eyes again. In the darkness behind my eyes, I felt as though if I never opened them I might be safe from these falsities. But, who was I to kid? I was in this place because no one knew what to do with me. This place had made me crazy. Before I came to New Moon, I had never had a hallucination or delusion in my life. Now, such things were commonplace in my day to day life here—if you can call it a life. Deciding that I can't live the rest of my forced life behind my eyelids, I decided to attempt to open my eyes again. This time, I truly opened them and the florescent lights on the ceiling were brighter than in my dream. I was still lying on the floor, but my head hurt, presumably from fainting. "Bella!" my father called to me again—ah, yes: that's who was calling my name before. Charlie and Nurse Emily helped me stand again—just like in my dream moments before.

"Whoa there, tipsy! You gave us a scare there for a moment when we thought the smelling salts weren't working," my dad joked. So they did use smelling salts… I thought. I gave him a half-smile and barely that. He was in a rare form this visit, all smiles and jokes within the first few moments of me being conscious. Removing his face from directly in front of me, Charlie moved to my side and my field of vision widened. Shock rapidly washed through my body all over again as my hallucination was back in full-force. Edward—the only color in my monotone world—was before me only a few feet away. This time my hallucination was different. Edward sat in a wheelchair.Well that's a new concoction, I teased myself. My anxiety level spiked as I realized that, like in my dream, I needed to tell Nurse Emily of my hallucination. If I was lucky then they might even sedate me. I clutched her arm tighter as I pressed my frail body against her well-portioned curvy one as if she could shield me from my waking nightmare. Like in my dream, tears filled to the rims of my eyes. I'm sure that if I was well-nourished I would have blushed too.

"Emily," I rasped, "I'm hallucinating again and it's really vivid. I'm… scared." I was completely honest, something that I had started to do here. It meant that I would be left alone more readily. I stared at Edward. His face was laced with worry, and it looked as though he might cry at any moment. It was breaking my half-heart all over again. My hallucinations were cruel to me.

"What do you mean, Isabella?" She asked, concerned. "Is it auditory or visual, honey?"

"Visual," I squeaked as the tears started to leak down my cheeks.

"What do you see?"

"My dead fiancée," I whispered. Suddenly I was reminded of that movie The Sixth Sense and wondered if maybe I too had that gift. Then I remembered that I was crazy, so of course I ignored that delusion.

"Bells, no you're not," my dad assured. I looked at him as if he was the crazy one.

"What?" I asked incredulously. What did he take me for? Oh yea: crazy.

"Bella," Alice chirped from the corner—I had not previously seen her due to my preoccupation with my visual hallucinations. Near her were Esme, Sue, and Carlisle. Carlisle?Wait… he was in Paris last I remember... "You're not hallucinating. Edward's really here… he's not dead!" She rushed to me, grasping one of my hands that had previously been strangle-hold wrapped around Nurse Emily's arm.

"Stop lying! Why are all of you trying to hurt me!" I screamed, staring straight into Alice's eyes, trying to catch her in the lie. Brave little Alice didn't even shirk away from my outburst.

"Bella, it took me too long to find my son, but I did. You're not hallucinating anymore—this is real. He's real," Carlisle spoke as he slowly stepped towards me with Esme in tow, smiling her big smiles. There was a peace in her face that I hadn't seen since before. If the words hadn't come from Carlisle himself, the only person who wasn't present during my breakdown, I would have kept on believing them all to be liars. But once he spoke those words—that this is real—I decided to believe him. I released my grip on Emily and wiggled my withered hand from Alice's warm grasp and took a hesitant step to Edward. Our eyes froze in an intimate connection for what felt like a thousand years. I was unsure of how to approach him. How does one approach their previously thought-to-be-dead fiancée after one has tried to commit suicide, offhand, maybe three almost four times? Words did not come to mind. My connection with Edward was so much more than words and yet simple words like hi were failing me. I could have said I'm sorry, but that would have felt too weird rolling off my tongue as the first thing I said to him after everything that has come to pass within the past—shit, I didn't know how long it's been since I've seen him—months. Body language seemed to be the best bet at the moment. Raising my eyebrows at him, I silently provoked him to prove that he was real.

"Hello love," his velvety voice ushered through his perfectly sculpted lips on his devastatingly handsome face. In my hallucinations I never did his voice justice. The sound that came from his lips was too perfect to be conjured up by me. Holy Shit, Edward was alive. The monumental realization of that bore down on my shoulders as I ran to him only to trip and fall to my knees right in front of him. The action of it exhausted me and I laid my head in his lap and sobbed just as ungracefully as I fell. "I see you haven't changed while I've been away," he teased, trying to lighten the mood. My fingers clutched at his shirt in need of being close to him while my head remained in his lap as I tried to steady my breathing. It was difficult but I managed to calm myself enough to lift my head again. Looking into his eyes, the world shifted again and righted itself. He had come back to me. Now, I too was alive.

"Edward," I breathily spoke. "How? You… CNN said you were dead. Everything… everything was just so empty without you…"

"Love, how many times have I told you that you shouldn't believe everything you hear on CNN?" he laughed and smiled my favorite crooked smile of his. It elicited a smile of my own, which felt foreign to my lips but oh so right.

"Too many to count," I said through my smile. Suddenly, with his eyes raking over me, I was very aware of what an unruly state I was in. Immediately I stood, somewhat wobbly, and straightened my hopelessly wrinkled white hospital gown. I ran my fingers through my hair to try to tame the inevitable mess it was in—it had been so long since I last looked in a mirror. "Uhm, can I have a few moments to be human?" I asked, playing on our inside joke that I take inhumanly long to get ready to leave the apartment.

"Sure. But don't take too long, I've been waiting to see you for months," he half-heartedly smiled—the seriousness of the situation wouldn't allow his full, beautiful smile. I nodded and turned back to Nurse Emily.

"Emily, can we go get my clothes?" I asked, hesitantly.

"Sure, honey. I don't see why not," she smiled.

Nurse Emily escorted me out of the private visiting room and down a corridor before turning onto our ward's main hallway. Lining the walls were a few of the other patients. Victoria was slouched against the wall by my door, smoking a cigarette.

"There you are!" She called to me and I nodded, not really knowing what to say. "Where the hell have you been? Did your dad visit again?" I smiled at her for probably the first time; her face mirrored the shock of my action.

"Better. Edward's alive." I stated as Nurse Emily unlocked my door, before turning to me to speak.

"Isabella, I have to go get your clothes from the Nurses Station, I'll be right back OK? Your hairbrush and other things should be in your room, though," she assured me before walking off.

"Holy Shit! Are you fucking kidding me?" Victoria scoffed. "Is this another of your hallucinations?" She and Tanya were well-versed in my delusional thoughts and apparent hallucinations—the whole ward was.

"Nope. It's real. I'm just changing really quickly before I head back to the visitor room—a lot of my family has come. I don't know how he's alive yet but I will soon. I just… I didn't want him to see me like this ya know?" I gestured to myself.

"Yeah, you have been looking like shit lately, though you've always seemed like you were a pretty girl outside of New Moon," she teased. She followed me into my room and sat on my bed—the action reminded me of Alice and a pang of sadness hit my gut. She watched while I tried to tame my knotted hair with my brush. There was a mirror in my room—one of those plexi-glass unbreakable kind—that I had to work with. It was amazing to me how soon my arms got tired with the simple routine motion of it—too long had my muscles gone unused and undernourished.

"Uhm, thanks?" I wasn't quite sure how to address that statement but I did my best attempt.

"So when do you get to go home then?" she asked in a slightly higher octave. Was that sadness that I detected in her voice?

"Hopefully I'll be able to go home with Edward today after we visit for a little while. I don't want to spend another day at this place!" Just then Nurse Emily walked back into my room carrying my suitcase full of clothes that they had confiscated from me not too long ago for me not eating. Quickly, I rummaged through it to try to find something decent but Renee hadn't packed me too much in the way of looking attractive so—after putting on fresh undergarments—I settled on a pair of black yoga pants, a grey fitted v-neck t-shirt and Edward's green zip-up hoodie. Everything was so much looser on my tiny figure than I remembered them being before. Tying my hair back in a neat ponytail, I regarded myself in the mirror. What I saw disturbed me. My face was sunken-in; my cheeks hallowed out. There were purple bruise-like bags under my eyes. My lips were white and cracked. I may not have succeeded in suicide but I did look like death. I rushed over to my bag and rooted through the mostly unworn clothes and crap Renee had packed while muttering under my breath about looking like shit. Searching for makeup, my quest was unsolved. Damn!

"Victoria, do you have any makeup?" I turned to her contemplative form on my lumpy bed.

"Of course!" She rushed out of my room to her own and was back in mine before I knew it. She handed me a tube of pinkish lip-gloss, cover-up, and blush. Her skin tone was on par with my pallor so I knew the colors would be complementary to my natural coloring. First, I applied cover-up to my bags—they being the most unsettling part of my appearance. Then I lightly patted the blush on my cheeks, trying to add life to my face. I finished with a light coat of the lip-gloss—that smelled fantastic—and decided that I was as good as I was going to get.

"I think I'm ready…" I half-stated half-asked of Victoria.

"You look so much more alive," she bluntly stated. One could always count on Victoria for a truthful response. "Pretty!" I rolled my eyes at her inaccurate statement; she was probably trying to calm my nerves by saying that. It was amazing how much of myself had come back to me after the knowledge that Edward was alive. I wondered when all of the pieces would fall back into place, if ever. I hoped it was soon.

"Thanks," I said to Victoria. "Emily! I think I'm ready," I called to my open doorway. Before leaving my room, I slipped on a pair of black ballet flats, opting out of going barefoot like I had before—it gave off the impression of insanity.

.::.

The second time I entered the private visiting room was much different than the first. The first time I had dreaded setting foot inside, and wasn't expecting to find what I found. When I entered again—not needing the support of Nurse Emily's arm like I had before—I was met with a near-buffet of my favorite food, Edward smiling, and the rest of my visitors looking much more relaxed. Apparently everyone was celebrating my breakthrough as well as Edward's return. I was just thankful that he was alive at all.

"There you are!" Edward called mid-smile as I appeared in the doorway.

"Here I am," I stated as I crossed the door's threshold.

"You look more like you," he observed. I walked across the room to where his wheel-chair was parked and wrapped my arms around his shoulders in a long-awaited hug. It was a bit awkward because he was in a sitting position and I was standing, but I truly didn't care. His arms instantly wrapped around me delicately as they tightened their embrace. As soon as they had secured themselves around me, Edward pulled me onto his lap—something that I felt awkward initiating on my own because I didn't know if it would be painful or not for him. Once I felt ready to release my hold, I drew back a small bit so I could look at his face eye-to-eye. There was a pink scar that ran from the peak of his left cheek to the left corner of his lips that wasn't present before he left for Paris. Oh, his still very kissable lips. I traced the healing scar with my index finger very lightly as if to will it to heal. It didn't mar his face, but simply gave it more character. When the intensity of the reunion caught up with me, my eyes filled to the brim with tears once again.

"Oh Edward!" I squealed as I mashed my lips against his as my tears streamed down my gaunt cheeks, ignoring everyone else in the room. His lips returned the urgency as he kissed away my pain. It wasn't until my father's grunt that we parted lips—only a few seconds after the kiss was initiated. Usually I felt sheepish for showing PDA in front of Charlie, but in present circumstances, I couldn't have cared less. "I love you so much," I offered, not knowing what else to say to the man I loved so much that I would rather die than be without.

"I know, baby. I love you… I—I told you I'd come back," he whispered that last part to only me. Guilt flooded me to the core as I realized the weight of his words. I had lost faith that he was coming back; I had acted selfishly.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered back, my voice choked with fresh sobs.

"I know, love. It's why I can't be upset with you—who's to say I wouldn't have acted similarly," he admitted only to me. A small amount of relief trickled through me, but not enough to completely quell the guilt I had started to feel. Nodding, I showed the understanding we had because my voice was betraying me with my silent sobs. Our reunion was filled with so much pain and sadness for what had happened to the both of us and yet so much love and gratitude to be with each other once again. It truly was bittersweet. "Before anything is explained, the first order of business is to get you to eat something! A little birdie told us that you haven't been eating many well-balanced meals," Edward joked much louder for the whole room to hear. I knew the time for explanations would come but I could wait as long as I got to be with Edward while I was waiting.

.::.

Chapter 2: Plans

Chapter 2: Plans

BPOV

That was the exact moment my life ended—when the TV spoke his name. Air left my lungs and I struggled to breathe. Running to the bathroom, phone still in hand, I heaved my stomach contents into the toilet and sobs wracked my body in painful spasms. At least I was able to manifest physical pain for the mental anguish I was feeling. My heart, once seeing my Edward covered in that bloody sheet, knew he was dead—and with him, half of me. I was not whole anymore, but the shell of a person left behind in the path of her soul being ripped out. Previously, I had never realized that a person's world could end in an instant, that it was even possible for oneinfinitesimal moment to create such a wake of destruction. How could it have even been possible for my body to be physically alive without him breathing on this earth? It wasn't right. Shouldn't my heart have literally stopped beating when his did? It wasn't fair. I had told Edward to come back to me and now he never would.

In my hysteria, I had a brief moment of clarity in the form of a song: I will follow you into the dark—Death Cab for Cutie's lyrics rose through my being. Edward and I were meant to be together for the rest of our lives and after. Knowing what I needed to do now, my life—the few minutes that was left of it—felt purposeful. My fate had been decided the moment Edward's was and now all I had to do was help fate along. With renewed clarity, Alice's tinkling shrieks of horror filtered into my ears.

"Bella! Oh, Shit Jasper, she's still not responding and I can't hear her throwing-up anymore—I think she might be passed out," She spoke to her beloved. I would never get that chance again and the thought caused envy of Alice to surge through my broken heart.

"Alice," I rasped; my throat was raw and scratchy from all of my crying and vomiting.

"Bella! Oh thank God. I thought you fainted. We're about ten minutes away, for some reason traffic is horrid. It'll be ok, I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding—he can't be d-d-dead." Alice's sobs over-took her again and she became useless to talk to. How dare she speak of my dead soul that way? As if she could understand the pain…

"Alice," I repeated. "I can't live in a world where he is not. I'm sorry, but I know he's dead. I love him more than life itself and without him, I have no life," I said evenly through steadily flowing tears. "Goodbye," I ended, chillingly.

"Bella, wait! Don't do anything stupid! We'll be rig—." I hung up the phone and cut her off mid-sentence. Her pleas meant nothing to me now. Only Edward, my darling dead Edward meant anything. I will join you soon...I had thought. Heaving myself off of the bathroom floor took more work than I had expected, I was much weaker than I had thought. The term sick with grief held new meaning for me. Walking purposefully—yet slowly—to our bedroom, I went right to the bed we shared where I had everything packed for my Paris trip. Oh, I'm still taking a trip alright¸ I had thought darkly. Rooting through my bags, I found what I had been searching for, the thing that would take away all of my anxiety and then some: my valium. I walked steadily to the kitchen to procure a glass of water—these pills wouldn't be easy to swallow without some. Without looking back, I downed the entire contents of the bottle and washed it down with all of the water in my tall cup. Deciding that was not enough of a relief of the burning heartache inside, I took a shot of tequila—that always seemed to help heartaches in the past.

Once in the living room I had shared and decorated with Edward, I collapsed on his favorite couch after turning on a video of last year's spring break trip. Secretly, I videoed him making a sandcastle for about ten minutes of him intently working before he caught me and threatened to throw the video camera into the ocean, claiming I was taking away his manliness by capturing such a moment on tape. He did no such thing because I batted my lashes and wiggled my hips—but I did turn the video off after seducing him, of course. I wasn't so kinky as to create a sex-tape while on the beach… that trip, anyways. I could feel the tequila burn its way down my esophagus and into my hollowed-out center, helping the valium create a slight haze in my vision. I closed my eyes before the sensation could make me dizzy. There was no way I wanted to throw up my fatal combination of pills and alcohol: I would have had to start all over again and I was all out of valium. With the sound of his voice and laughter, I drifted off into a peaceful death.

.::.

A certain amount of time had passed, that much I was certain, before I became lucid again. Surely I must have been dead because I couldn't feel or move any part of me. I felt disconnected from my body, almost like a floating entity in a dark abyss. It was just as people who have died and come back have said: I got tunnel vision and at the center of my view was a blindingly bright light. It hurt my eyes; at least what would have been my eyes. Do wandering spirits have eyes? I had thought. In the distance I started to be able to discern a chirping noise, like a bird that slowly became deeper sounding. Then I began to hear the shuffle of… shoes? How queer, I thought again. It started to feel like I had a body again, and something heavy was on my chest making it hard to breathe. Oh, I was breathing. Could dead people breathe? I was full of questions and no answers could be found. The voices came next; they were familiar to me but sounded somewhat distorted like I was under water in a tub and they were on the outside of it. There was a strange urge to open my eyes but I tried to fight it. Suddenly, it dawned on me where I was.

"Aw, FUCK!" I shouted as I sat straight up in my hospital bed. I looked around me and saw the many harried faces of my worried family: Charlie and Sue, looking a little worse for the wear; Alice clinging to Jasper on his lap in a chair; Rosalie with Emmett in the corner, and Esme sitting on the foot of my bed, white as a ghost.

"Bella!" They all gasped and screamed at once, not sure what to make out of my startling waking.

"Tell me this isn't your doing, Alice?" I challenged. I was filled with an intense anger and the anguish I felt before I took the pills was only the more intensified with my renewed consciousness.

"Bella! How could you do this! What would Edward think?" She tearfully accused me.

"Edward is dead. As should I be… he's… he-he's my life! And without him, I have no life," I started to sob.

"Bella, we're so sorry, but you have to pull through this. None of us could handle losing the both of you like this," Emmett explained. It truly didn't matter to me what sort of comfort they were trying to give me. I was broken beyond repair. The only possible way for me to have even been a shadow of my former self was if Edward was to rise from his grave—or the morgue. I had no idea how long I had been unconscious for. Rosalie, Alice, and Esme wrapped their arms around me as I continued to cry and shake. I didn't want comfort—I didn't deserve it. My life was dead and gone. When would they realize that?

"Bella…" Esme softly called to me. Rose and Alice released their holds on me and took a step back. Esme looked about as torn up as I felt. Guilt swelled in my chest. I tried to dampen it down, but since I decided I was in fact alive I couldn't help but feel every bit of it. Regarding Esme with devastation in my eyes, I tried to give her my full attention. She seemed to understand my effort and nodded before continuing. "My son…," she swallowed, pausing to collect her voice, "he is most likely dead. But if he's not, the one person he wants to come back to is you. He chose you. He loves you. It would kill him to see you like this. You're stronger than this honey… and I—I just don't know if I could take it if you died too…" Esme started to bawl again and collapsed onto my bed, our sobs shook the bed together. It would have been a sweet moment with my soon-to-be mother-in-law if it hadn't been such a despairing time. My dad stepped towards the bed as Esme and I were losing it so completely.

"Bells, Carlisle flew to Paris about an hour ago; he transferred your flight to his name. Hopefully we'll find out by tomorrow what is really going on. So far, after calling the Sorbonne and attempting to contact the U.S. Embassy, we've got no leads. I'm not telling you this to upset you further, but I want you to see that there's hope. We've all got hope, honey… and… I just love you so much!" Charlie got choked up at the end—he had almost made it the entire speech without getting teary-eyed. I swore he was more and more in touch with his emotions as each day wore on.

"Isabella Marie Swan, if you ever do something this foolish again, I don't care how adult you are, I will whip your hide, girl! Do you want your father to have a heart attack like Harry, rest his soul?" Sue chastised. I shook my head no. "Good! Now you know how much we all love you so don't ever forget it again!" Sue kissed me on the cheek after her rant and it was just so quintessentially her.

Visiting hours were soon over, and as much as I loved my friends and family—which were a small comparison to what I had lost even though I had great love for them in my heart—I was glad to see them go. I was so incredibly tired in a way that I was convinced if I closed my eyes I would never wake up—I was too hopeful. Everyone kissed my cheek goodbye, offering condolences, their hopes, and love. Alice felt responsible for not getting to me in time. I told her I would have locked myself in the bathroom and done it anyways—I omitted the fact that I still had plans to end my now-emptied life. I couldn't even bring my usually benevolent self to feel guilty about my future final act. Esme stayed in my room with me at the hospital; after all, she would have had to head back to an empty home. Charlie, not wanting to give up on his parental status, chose to sleep in the waiting room—something that was only permitted after he flashed his badge.

Once my 72-hour hold was up I was released from the hospital, unfortunately fully recovered. We still hadn't heard any word from Paris, a sign—only to me—that Edward was indeed never coming home, except in a box. Before, Edward had always teased me at how bad of an actress I was and now I was dead-set on proving him wrong as my final act. Pun intended. Alice escorted me home from the hospital on that Monday. Everyone was adamant that I see a shrink as soon as possible before these feelings of grief spun wildly out of control again. What everyone had failed to realize was that during my suicide attempt I had the most control over my actions then, than any other part of that horrid day. Needlessly, I agreed to their conditions—asking for a few days' rest first—admitting that I had let my emotions spiral out of my grasp and was incredibly irrational. They bought it, just like that. Even after my outburst at the hospital, they believed all of the bullshit I spilled about how all I wanted was to live my life the way Edward would have wanted—complete and utter horse-shit.

"B, be honest with me ok? Do you have any more of those pills you took? I searched your apartment and couldn't find anything while we were waiting for the paramedics to arrive. Do you and Edward really not have anything? Not even Advil?" She asked, bewildered.

"None. We hated the stuff. I only accepted the prescription of Valium for my flights to and from Paris to see Edward. He was the only reason I would have ever seen to take any medication… My mom got addicted to Oxycontin a few years ago so I never even wanted anything as mild as baby-aspirin in the house," I spilled. It was a secret I had kept for a long time, even from Charlie. What was the point now? I was going to die soon anyways—I might as well give Alice a great performance of how 'OK' I was.

"Wow, I never knew that. So… you must have been really upset, like the most ever in your entire life to have done that on Friday…" she hedged. Alice couldn't even bring herself to say the actual words suicide and kill-yourself in all the days since she found me on my couch. It's quite a funny story, actually. On their way to my shared apartment, Jasper called 911 while Alice hyperventilated—for the first time ever—in the passenger seat. They beat the ambulance there by a few minutes so Jasper resorted to kicking the front door down, which was all highly unnecessary because Alice had a spare key to the apartment in her purse.

"Imagine what you would be like if Jasper died. Take that times ten and add a wedding ring," I bluntly replied. She gasped as my words sunk-in. Alice was only a year younger than Edward and me, but it would have been impossible for her to have felt as deeply about Jasper in her two years of dating him—ever since she got to University of Washington—to my soul mate connection of five years with Edward. I wasn't a time snob or anything of the sort, but no one had shit on my love for my man. Of course Edward was her brother, but that sort of love was different and more accepting of loss.

"I know everyone is incredibly upset with what you did, but… how can they not understand—at the very least—you contemplating it? Do they not all have a love they would live and die for? Of course I do not approve at all, but I can't fault you on it," she realized aloud. Never in the years that I have known Alice, did I think I would have to convince her of something reasonable: usually it was the other way around. Once I had convinced Alice of my logic, I knew the rest would fall in line like little ducks in a row. Alice was the guiding force of our blended family, she held us together with her planning ways.

"Right," I concluded. I forced a yawn—quite convincingly, actually. "Is it ok if I just go to sleep? I know you wanted to grab lunch but, I'm so tired. I think I just need a day to sleep this off in my own bed, ya know?" I whimpered.

"Oh of course, that's fine. I understand. We've all been through a lot these past few days and I could use an early night myself," she replied, as she helped me into my apartment. "I'll call you later tonight, yeah?"

"Alright, but before eight o'clock, OK? I feel as though after that I'll be in a very deep sleep. The anti-anxiety meds they have me on make me feel somewhat loopy. Speaking of, what time tomorrow will you be over to dispense tomorrow's dose?" I played along. It was me who suggested that someone dispense my new meds to me each day just to ease everyone else's mind. Everyone generally knew that Edward and I didn't keep other medicine in the apartment, because at one point or another someone would have a headache at our place and we wouldn't have anything to give them when they asked for something.

"Well that depends on whether or not you want to go to breakfast with me," she chirped, almost as her normal self. We were all strained but the ever-hopeful Alice was bouncing back to normalcy better than the rest of us.

"Sure."

"Great! I'll pick you up, say… nine o'clock?"

"Alice, I can drive you know."

"I know, silly. I just want to pamper you a bit. What's wrong with that?" she winked.

"Nothing," I hesitated. "See you tomorrow," I called to Alice as she let herself out.

The moment I heard Alice's tiny dancing footsteps down the hall, I rushed to my newly-fixed door and double-bolted it. Spitting my un-swallowed pill into my hand, I headed for the kitchen to find a plastic baggie for its safe-keeping. I had been tonguing that thing since I left the hospital, and I have to say that it was not without difficulty that I was able to converse with Alice. Next stop on my list was Edward's sock drawer. It held the contents of my escape and the only other person besides the two of us that knew of it was half-way around the world trying to get the scoop on my dead fiancée. Cut it out, Bella, I had thought when my breathing became labored;there is no need for a breakdown. Edward had stashed the remaining bottle of Percocet from when he broke his arm last year in his sock drawer—prescribed by his father, Dr. Cullen. I dumped the bottle into my plastic baggie that contained the one pill I had spit out minutes before. Needing an unsuspicious place to hide my growing stash, I taped the bag to the underside of the bathroom counter. Now all I had to do in preparation was write my letters and wait a few days to add a couple more anti-anxiety pills.

Relief flooded me as I sank into the couch. When I had told Alice I was tired, it wasn't a lie. I had needed a moment alone to fall apart for 72 hours and damn was it exhausting trying to hold it together for the sake of my family. When Renee had called me at the hospital, crying hysterically, I could hardly understand a word she muffled into the phone. It took me an hour and a half of bull-shitting to calm her down and convince her of my new-found hope in What Would Edward Want? I felt like one of those zealots' wearing a WWEW bracelet—maybe that would persuade them completely. Still, I felt no guilt in deceiving them of my plans. I was operating under the old adage of ignorance is bliss. It was my life, or at least it was. Technically I gave Edward my life years ago—when his ended, so did mine.

I slept on the couch that night, unable to bring myself to lie in the same bed that I had slept in every night for a year with Edward before he left for Paris. It was now a bed of death: the death of him, the death of me, and the death of our love on this earth. Alice arrived at my door at nine o'clock on the dot, extremely punctual as always. Her spiky black hair coifed in its usual fashionable way and her seamlessly perfect outfit put my black yoga pants-clad legs and ponytailed-hair to shame. When I answered the door—shocked that she gave me the courtesy of knocking—I was bouncing on one leg with the other crossed over it.

"Hurry in and give me my pill Al, I have to pee!" I urged. She did exactly that, buying into my scheme effortlessly.

"Oh jeez, Bella. Do you always have to put off peeing 'til the last minute?" She teased. Playing on the group's running joke that I'm a procrastinating pee-er, I was flawless in the execution of my plan. It was a partially true fact, but annoying none-the-less that everyone teased me about my bathroom habits. I fake swallowed my pill, tonguing it as I had before and rushed off to the bathroom. Once inside, I spit out the capsule and hid it in my baggie, re-taping it to the underside of the counter and headed off to breakfast. Alice was none-the-wiser.

.::.

By sheer dumb luck, on the part of my family, I was discovered during my second suicide attempt. I had waited a week before following through with my plan of swallowing my collection of pills again—the worst week of my life— after sending out letters the day before, and making sure that I had taken care of every last detail, including making a will. I had given everyone an "I'm sorry" gift when I saw them individually or in their couple-formation. In all actuality, it was a goodbye-gift and an I'm not sorry for what I'm about to do-gift. In my plan was the attempt at not seeming like I was a person exhibiting the warning signs of suicide, so I bought them new things instead of giving them something of mine. It was more exhausting than my 72-hour fake-out had been at the hospital. I felt relief as I swallowed the exorbitant amount of pills at the idea of eternal slumber. Adding to my resolute decision, Carlisle only called once in that week to say that there was no update, that no one would speak to him or even let him inside the hospital where Edward's body was brought to.

This time, I was not discovered by Alice—to which I was thankful for her sake—but by my landlord. Apparently Rose had been calling and calling my cell and got pissed off that I was taking such a long nap—that was the lie I had concocted, an ironic one at that—and called my landlord. She gave him permission to enter my apartment with his keys to wake me up and urge me to call her back. When he couldn't wake me he called an ambulance. The doctors told me that if he had called ten minutes later, I would have been dead. How desperately I wished he was ten minutes late—my cold corpse would have been just as still as Edward's. I woke up in the hospital, not the next day, but two weeks later. The combination of pills I had taken, along with another shot of tequila—which I thought was somewhat poetic: trying to cure my heartbreak—had sent me into acute liver failure. Deciding that I needed time to recuperate and a vast amount of drugs to be pumped into my system to restart my liver (a donor liver was not necessary), the doctors kept me in a medically-induced coma. When I woke up, I was groggier than the first time and less feisty initially.

Instead of being greeted with a pissed-off yet grieving family, my father presented me with an induction form to The New Moon Psychiatric Facility of Seattle. Because I had just turned twenty-two (over the age of 18)—during Edward's absence in September—I legally had to sign it myself. I was kept at the hospital for another week for observation under light sedation because the day after I awoke from the coma, I threatened to kill myself again. My father came to the hospital every day, sometimes with Sue and sometimes without. This time, I had gotten no lectures, only sad expressions and silent tears. Rosalie and Emmett came one day, but Emmett had to carry her weeping form out not twenty-minutes later. Alice came twice: the first time without Jasper, and the second time with. Esme never left my side, but also never spoke a word to me. She didn't have to say anything for me to understand how upset she was with me, and with the unknown status of her son. Renee was also present when I awoke. She, like Esme, never left my side either, but spoke to me. Well, actually she cried more than anything. Unlike after the first time I tried to take my life, I became withdrawn and somber. Charlie would attempt to cheer me up with jokes or funny memories but I couldn't even nod a response. The word catatonic was thrown around a lot by my hospital doctors and visiting family.

.::.

I was transferred over to The New Moon Psychiatric Facility by ambulance while Charlie, Renee, and Esme followed me in a car. Renee had gone to my apartment and packed a bag of clothes, mostly things like yoga pants, fitted t-shirts, my favorite sweatshirt of Edward's and undergarments. What made me nervous was the fact that she packed a lot. They hugged me and cried shamelessly—all of them. Esme told me she was sorry, Renee told me she loved me, and Charlie told me he'd be seeing me soon. Then, they left me in the care of the Nursing staff, orderlies, and head-doctors. I was given a tour of the facilities, told the rules, and explained how if I progressed properly then I would be given more freedoms and privileges. I had never felt more utterly alone than at the precise moment they locked me in my room. That night was the last time I cried. I awoke the next day and said nothing. New Moon has held me captive ever since, and I have no idea as to how long I have been their prisoner patient. My world was filled with varying shades of grey, black, and white and I was just another soul-less ghost trapped on this earthen hell.

.::.

Meeting the other patients was a gamble of survival: do I befriend this one or that? Which one won't attempt to slit my throat in the middle of the night? It was after I met the other patients in my wing that I realized it was for my safety that they locked me in my cell room at night. Out of all the women in my section, I met only two that I considered to be somewhat normal or less-crazy than the others: Victoria and Tanya. Victoria was a feisty red-head that got locked-up in here by a judge for killing her boyfriend James—who repeatedly raped and abused her—in the middle of the night. She felt blessed to be here instead of jail. Blessed, my ass. Tanya was a blonde sociopath, one of those people that liked to set shit on fire just to let the world burn; figuratively speaking of course, she wasn't a pyromaniac, that was another patient whose name I never bothered to learn. I never said much, but my eyes always did the speaking for me: red and filled with sadness. After a little while I learned that they called me Sad Girl not because of my day-to-day sullenness, but because everyone in our wing heard my wailing cries my first night at New Moon.

When it came to therapy, there was group and individual. Group therapy was a joke: it was usually only the crazies that contributed. I never said a word during one of those. Individual therapy was different. Someone coined the term ther-rape-me from that movie Girl, Interrupted and I had to admit, it sure as hell felt like I was in that institution with them. That's exactly how individual therapy felt: like they were raping my mind. Immediately they started me on a mood stabilizer and an anti-depressant: the strong shit. Untrustingly, I continued to tongue my meds as second nature. I didn't want to be one of those drugged-out zombies… just the self-induced kind. I also tongued my sleeping pills at first, saving all my pills up inside my pillow. After, what I assumed was a week there because I had seven of each pill variety; I took my collection of pills all at once, attempting to kill myself again. I was naïve to think that I could effectively end my live in a medical facility where they had the technology to bring you back from an overdose. After that they started to check my mouth to make sure I swallowed my pills when they administered them. Because I was too cowardly to hang myself, that was my last attempt at suicide.

The haze the meds along with the sleeping pills gave me was tolerable, at least then I truly could escape into my head and feel the pain I harbored deep inside my core. Often I would day-dream about being with Edward again. Locked away in my head, I would pretend that either he was alive and we had a wonderful week in Paris together, or that I had died with him and our spirits had united into one soul. My pills made me speak more freely in my individual sessions, and my day dreams were conveyed to my shrink, Dr. Laurent Soigner. He told me that in my fragile condition I was having delusions and hallucinations—common in those of a frazzled mental state. Everything I did here was not my own: my room, my 'friends', even my thoughts were wrong by their standards. Mentally, I was checked out. They could have my body because my spirit was long gone. Slowly I started to eat less and less, having no will to nourish the body I didn't want to be connected to anymore. Eventually I stopped eating all-together and they put me in a plain sheet-white hospital gown and threatened to not give back my clothes until I started to eat again. Mentally, I flipped them the bird and didn't pick up a fork for about a week. That's when they started to force-feed me through an IV. They only did it a few times until Charlie, visiting once a week, cried to me how terribly thin I was. I ate very minimally after that.

Alice visited once and cried the whole time. I said nothing. Rosalie also visited once and didn't look at me when she spoke. I said nothing. Esme sent letters and said all the things she couldn't in-person. One day Esme came with Charlie and Sue, their faces were alight in a way that they hadn't been since my very first suicide attempt. Apparently trying a new type of therapy they had concocted, they started to tell me false news of Edward. They tried to convince me that they had heard from Carlisle that Edward was alive, just badly injured. They tried telling me over and over so many times. Every visit they would attempt their lies ended in me going into hysterics and having to be subdued with tranquilizers as the orderlies carried me off to my room to 'rest'. I didn't know how many times that it happened, just that it did.

Every night I had nightmares of the sheet-covered Edward, bleeding on the street. Every day was a waking-nightmare of grey and pain. My memories started to fade and eventually I truly became the zombie-Sad-Girl that the other patients, crazier patients, joked about. I was nothing and I had nothing.

.::.