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.