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.

.::.

Chapter 1: The End

Chapter 1: The End

BPOV

"He left me, He left me, He left me, He left me…" I repeated while hugging my arms around my knees, rocking back and forth in this cold, stark place. I didn't know what day it was, or even the time of that day. Nothing mattered anymore. Food had no taste, the air held no sweetness to my breath. My life was not worth living. I had tried on several times in vain to end it, but no one would let me succeed. Was I even alive? Or was this place my own concocted form of Hell? In my vision, there were no colors: only varying shades of grey, black, and white. The over-head florescent lights only aided in keeping my world grey. Their buzzing drowned out most of my inner-thoughts, a loud blaring keeping me in my zombie-like state. The hospital-like bed I rocked on was lumpy as I stared out the chain-bar covered window into the non-descript outside. A metal clicking sound came from the door of my—for lack of a better word—cell. Still, I kept rocking, repeating my mantra of desolation.

"Isabella, honey. Isabella, you have a visitor today. Will you accept the visitor?" A woman's voice called to me, one that I had become familiar with. Turning my head from the window I had been staring out of, I slowed my rocking and quieted my chant of pain. Looking at the door, my brain told me it was a nurse I was looking at. I could see her nametag: Nurse Emily. Considering that she was only asking me out of formality—if it was my father visiting again, it didn't matter if I did or did not want to see him: they would make me—I nodded my head in acquiescence. "That's a good girl," she cooed. Nurse Emily came towards me in her starched-white uniform and held out her soft, warm hands. Gingerly, I took them and attempted to stand up but I was so weak: I hardly ate anymore and was often force-fed intravenously. She laced her right arm around my waist, supporting me as I held her left hand, walking together towards the door.

Nurse Emily guided me down the sterile-white walled hallway that was lined with thick metal, white doors with small viewing windows one after another. God, I hated this place. Random patients loitered against the hall's walls, licking them, or talking to the walls or themselves. These were my peers, my colleagues, if you will. I was grouped with them, locked away with them here. Here, I was known as the sad-girl. If I could still laugh, I would laugh at that. Sad? Really? That's what they thought? Who gives a flying-fuck what they thought. They're crazy. Sad was a gross understatement. I was so much more than sad: my life was over. It would have been ended if other people didn't feel the need to cling me to this earth any longer. Pain was the only thing that kept me alive in any sense of the word: their pain at the idea of me dying, and my residual pain from losing… him. I did not like to think of him. Except for that he was gone, he left me. They tried to tell me lies, the kind that they only meant to comfort me with. They told me he would be OK, that a mistake was made. All lies. I knew he was gone.

Clearing my throat I decided to ask Nurse Emily if my dad came with Sue this time or by himself. It took a little extra work—I wasn't sure when the last time I had talked above a whisper. "Emily?" I rasped. Just then, we rounded the corner to the visiting room reserved for patients and their families. Deciding that I was moments away from knowing myself, I kept quiet. Nurse Emily shrugged it off; clearly thinking I was crazy and it didn't matter if I randomly spoke her name. Whatever. She opened the door to the visiting room and my world of grey was shattered. Suddenly, I saw color: intense green eyes and blazing bronze hair. Impossible!

"Edward," I gasped. Suddenly I knew I was dead. This whole white and grey place a concoction in my mind, the movie What Dreams May Come was suddenly wildly realistic. Still, it didn't make sense why he would be in Hell with me.

"But you're… you were supposed to be… dead." Abruptly a whirling vortex of grey spiraled around, and at the center was my beautiful green and bronze. My body felt weightless and eventually, in my mind, I disappeared into the black.

.::.

The first time I met Edward Cullen, I was six years old in Forks, Washington. We threw dirt at each other and I went home to dear old mom and dad and exclaimed that I was going to marry that boy some day. It was that sort of magical moment when kids have better insights to their wants than adults seem to know about themselves. That night, however, my parents sat me down and explained to me that they were getting a divorce. "Bella, sweetie, we both love you very much but we just don't love each other anymore," is what my mom had said. I was one of those persistently sunny children that always bounced back. My mom dragged me to Phoenix, Arizona so she could feel the sun on her face again and I bounced back from their divorce.

Over ten years later, when I was sixteen, was the second time I met Edward. I had moved back to Forks to live with my father after deciding that I hated my new stepfather, Phil. When Edward's grown-up teenage form caught my eye, I was smitten all over again. This time we didn't throw dirt at each other but, instead, decided to date. Who knew at the age of six a girl could be so right about finding her soul's counterpart in another. Edward was everything I could have ever wanted in a guy and everything I never knew I needed. He was caring, protective, loving, hilarious, and had this naughty edge to him—I took advantage of that. Edward was drop dead sexy, could have had any girl in the world he wanted, and yet he wanted me. He was perfection in his leather jacket, and we worshiped each other.

Transitioning from high school sweethearts to college lovers over the years, our happiness only increased. We grew from love-struck teens to in-love adults. Our junior year of college, after both of us had turned twenty-one, we were thinking about the future. An opportunity came up for Edward to spend his first semester of senior year abroad in Paris. I knew it would be hard for us to be separated for the longest amount of time since the start of our official relationship, but we would make it work; we always did. It was important to him and I knew I could manage back home at University of Washington for the one semester on my own. The night before he boarded his plane that August, we shared our last date in the United States together for the next six months. After our romantic candle-lit dinner at a swanky restaurant in Seattle, Edward drove us out to a meadow-like plot of land overlooking the city. Out of all my memories of before, this was the most vivid—next to him leaving on the plane, that is.

.::.

Dinner left me feeling full and content. Edward had his fingers laced with mine as he drove, always too-fast, through the Seattle roads. He had said he had a surprise for me. Although the new dress, necklace, and fancy dinner were quite enough. Getting off the main road, he turned onto a private drive. Grinning his Cheshire-cat lopsided grin—the one I fell in love with when I was six and again at age sixteen—he regarded my confused expression. "Uhm, E? Where are we going?" I asked, curiosity overtaking my mind. He chuckled softly, lightly shaking his head from side to side.

"You'll see Bella; beautiful, I need you to be patient for your surprise," he exclaimed through his now-bigger grin. Confidence and love was being exuded from him as he drove on the winding drive. The trees thinned suddenly and there was a meadow with the grass cut short. It reminded me of his parent's home in Forks. Instead of there being the large white house in the middle of the meadow, there was a soft glowing on the ground, like a thousand little candles. I looked around and could not see another car in sight anywhere. Where was this glowing coming from? I had thought. Edward cut the engine and I could see that he was starting to get a little nervous, which was odd for me to see that because usually he was so well-composed. He got out and walked around the car to my door, opening it for me. After dating him for five years I was used to this gesture and just let him do it. It made him feel gentlemanly.

"Thank you, babe." I customarily said.

"Anything for you, love." He answered as always.

We had a pattern that was neither forced nor routine. To us, it was wonderfully romantic. Edward took my hand and led us toward the glow. It was a pleasant night that had neither wind nor rain—one of those rare, amazingly beautiful Seattle nights. As we got closer to the meadow's glow, the lights became individualized instead of one giant glow; I was now able to see each individual candle. They were placed in a careful boxy configuration with a rhyme and reason that I couldn't quite figure out yet. Edward led us to the very middle of the open maze of candlelight and paused. I turned to him, and saw a mischievous smile come over his perfect face.

"Right here, right where we're standing: this is going to be the kitchen—your gloriously big kitchen filled with everything you need to make your perfect culinary creations." Edward started. Oh god, I had thought, he's pulling a Grey's Anatomy scene on me before he leaves… he knows I love that show. I couldn't help but laugh inwardly at how corny, yet equally great the gesture was.

"Wait! You bought this land?" I questioned.

"Yes. This is going to be our home. Will you let me continue?" Edward huffed. It was such a typical moment for us: Edward being sweet and me being ridiculous.

"OK," was all I could say.

Leading us into another room of the candle-maze, he paused again. "And here, here is where I'll play piano and you'll watch adoringly at how amazingly talented your husband is," he assured me with the biggest grin. After I nodded, he moved us into yet another room. "This room will be where our children play as we watch them affectionately so," and again he dragged me into another room. The narrowness of the candles alerted to me that it was a hallway. "And here, in our entryway, is where we'll always remember—," he paused. He released my hand and I walked a few paces away from him, looking at my surroundings and when I turned back to him, he was bent on one knee and held his hands out, one with a small black box and the other searching for my own hands. His expression was undulating anxiety but I could not tell if it was the excited kind or truly nervous kind.

"Edward?" I gasped when I saw him positioned like that.

"Give me your hands, love," he politely requested and I did as he asked. I swallowed hard, unintentionally, at the same time as he did. The fact that we usually did most things in-sync made a small smile settle on my lips. "— we'll always remember that this is where I proposed and asked to be my wife forever and after." I gasped when he said that and felt tears of happiness swell in my eyes, threatening to spill over the lids, as my face undeniably flushed.

"Isabella Marie Swan, my one true love, will you marry me?" Edward asked. Before I could ruin the moment with any awkward pauses, I rushed my response.

"YES! Edward Anthony Cullen! A thousand times yes! I would marry you today, tomorrow, in a pair of Chucks carrying a bouquet of dandy-lions. I love you!" I screeched. After he slid the most beautifully antique diamond ring on my dainty finger, he kissed me passionately before we hugged each other so intensely I feared breaking my ribs. Almost as quickly as we started hugging several cars' lights turned on and was accompanied by their horns beeping and blaring from a small distance. The expression on my face must have been total and utter shock—I can only imagine what it looked like, but I knew what I had felt.

"Where the hell did they come from?" I asked, nearly ruining the moment.

"Bella, they were there the whole time. We can't help it that you are completely unobservant!" He chuckled. This was not the first time he had said that to me; in fact it was a running joke how unobservant he thought I was.

"You will NOT be wearing that at your wedding!" Alice's pixy voice screeched as she leapt from one of the cars to engulf us in a congratulatory hug.

"Well, jeez, Alice. I didn't know you were listening… it was just sort of for effect…" I stuttered and winked at Edward. It served her right for eaves-dropping—hearing something she didn't like. Suddenly we were surrounded by other members of our family as well as our friends that were considered family. My dad and his second-wife Sue came to hug us next.

"Congratulations, my baby-belle. We brought some champagne to celebrate," Charlie, my dad, said as he uncharacteristically got choked-up. I could see through his crinkly-eyed smile that one tear escaped before he pulled me into the biggest hug and nodded to Edward and shook his hand.

"Thanks, dad," I gasped as my own tears started to spill.

"We're so happy for you, honey!" Sue exclaimed as she gave Edward and me her hugs. Next in line was Esme and Carlisle, Edward's parents.

"Now you're officially part of our family! Although you were considered part of it almost the moment we met you. I'm so happy for you two! Just think: another daughter!" Esme exclaimed, full of her own shameless tears and big smiles.

"Oh, what mom? I'm not good enough for you?" Alice teased her mother.

"No, we're just excited for another, honey. Bella, Edward: congratulations. You kids have immense happiness ahead of you," Carlisle offered.

"Thank you," Edward and I said in unison and shared a brief laugh. I added on, "from the bottom of our hearts." We were only engaged five minutes and already we sounded like an old married couple: offering our feelings as one entity.

"Bella, baby! Oh I'm so happy for you!" Renee called to me.

"Mom! You flew all the way from Florida?" I asked incredulously. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Surprise!" Edward whispered in my ear. God, did I love him. He was my soul, the very point that my universe revolved around. I remember thinking then that without him my life was meaningless. I gave him another kiss on the cheek as we stood there in our receiving line of blessings.

"I cannot believe that Edward proposed to you before Emmett proposed to me!" Rosalie cried as she playfully swatted at Emmett's large bicep before hugging me fiercely. "Congrats girl, I'm so happy for you!"

"Rose, you told me you didn't want to be engaged until after college. What's a man to do?" Emmett whined. "Bella, Edward, now you can stop having pre-marital sex and get on with the marital sex! Awesome." Emmett thought aloud before engulfing me in his own awkward bear-hug. It was only awkward because he had just discussed my sex life with Edward in front of both of our parents. Following Rosalie and Emmett, the other couple in our close-knit circle of friends, Jasper waited for his turn to congratulate us patiently.

"Darlin' I am just so happy for you Bella! Congrats Edward, may I throw the bachelor party?" Jasper teased. The moment I heard bachelor party, I tensed. "Oh relax, Bella, I was only joking. We gentlemen never need to partake in that ritual when we are so enraptured with our women." I couldn't help but tightly wrap my small arms around Jasper's tall form for making me feel so wonderfully. He always had a way with making people feel great no matter the occasion. It was hard to hold him properly in my arms, and I wondered how tiny Alice was able to accomplish that task when she was so much more petite than me. She did, after all, hug him nearly constantly, that playful thing she was.

My father toasted us all with the champagne and disposable glasses that he brought. It was so lovely to be surrounded by the other couple's in our lives: Carlisle & Esme, Charlie & Sue, Jasper & Alice, and Rosalie & Emmett. My mother was the only single person present, having been fresh off her divorce from Phil. I had a feeling she enjoyed single-cougar life better than married-cougar life. The great thing about Renee was that even as a ninth wheel, she never felt awkward of made the moment uncomfortable. She was her own woman and I truly wished that as an adult I possessed that aspect of her. I also hoped that my marriage would last longer than the two of hers combined and then some!

"OK Bella, so as your Maid of Honor—because Jas and I won't be married before you and my dear brother so it'll be maid instead of matron—I need to know your wedding colors so I can start gathering fabric swatches and decoration ideas for your bridal book." Alice gushed. It was so typical of her to already start obsessing over the aesthetics of the wedding the moment I had gotten engaged.

"Alice who says you're my Maid of Honor?" I teased. Her face fell to a point that pained me to see. "Oh relax, Alice I was kidding! Of course you're my Maid of Honor! I just, you know, thought I could ask you out to lunch or something and ask then. Isn't that more traditional?"

"Screw that! You'd be wasting my precious planning time! Now, colors!" I had never been the type of little girl that dreamt about her wedding day because I had never dreamt that there would be a man stable enough to handle all of my crazy. I had to think quickly.

"Uhm… yellow and black?" I stammered, hoping I chose well.

"I just knew you'd pick those! Excellent! Now I can start getting to work!" She kissed my cheek and flitted off to Jasper's awaiting arms.

That night was the last time Edward and I made love, and the first and only time that it was as an engaged couple.

.::.

Saying goodbye at the gate of his flight to Paris was one of the hardest things I had ever had to previously do in my life. Even my parent's divorce couldn't measure up to the heartache it left me with. Edward had been sweet about his leaving the whole day. He made me breakfast in bed, which was ridiculous to me because it was the day of his departure and I should have been the one making grand gestures. I, however, enjoyed it none-the-less.

"I love you Bella, my fiancée. I'm leaving my heart here with you so take care of it. Keep yourself well and I'll be seeing you at Thanksgiving when you visit," he said through a strained expression, meant to keep his tears at bay.

"I love you so much, more than the air I breathe. You are my life. Come back to me, Edward." I pleaded through my own sobs.

"Always," he said before he kissed the ring on my left hand and then my lips sweetly, chastely. He held me in his arms, silently, for a minute or two letting me wet his coat with my tears completely before he started to pull away. We both knew that he needed to go right at that moment or he would never get on his plane. He pulled his body away but still held my hand for the briefest of moments before giving it a squeeze and letting it drop to my side as he backed away towards his awaiting flight. He blew me a kiss goodbye and turned around, dejected. His posture was visibly more hunched with sorrow than I had ever seen in the five years previously. He had been gone less than thirty seconds and already the harrowing void he left had consumed me completely. I started to run towards his gate, dead-set on seeing him one last time, stealing this moment from fate for my own pleasure. Before I even called out his name, his retreating form turned almost as suddenly as my own did. I remembered thinking the memory of this; I will carry with me always.

"Edward!" I screamed in anguish. We both sprinted to each other with abandon of our responsibilities: mine to be strong and his to leave. I flew into his arms and we kissed fiercely and passionately. We kissed the kiss of lovers issuing pained goodbyes, when they try to implant their soul into each other's keep until they are reunited. Finally, Alice and Rose had to step-in to break us apart. People were, after all, starting to stare and Edward was literally minutes away from missing his flight. We didn't say any words this time, having said all that there was to say before. This time, we merely nodded with our heads held high.

Once Edward had boarded his plane, Alice and Rosalie dragged my sobbing-ass to the car and drove me to the apartment I had shared with Edward since the beginning of our junior year of college. They were equipped with sappy romance movies, Ben & Jerry's ice-cream, tissues and tequila. It was as-if it was the night to cure the break-up blues. If I had known that it was going to be the last time I ever saw Edward, I never would have let him leave.

.::.

The first week of Edward's absence was the hardest. Although we texted throughout each day and he called me before he went to bed, I still missed his physical proximity and day-to-day small interactions immensely. After the first week a sort of numbness set in as I created a new routine purposely designed to keep my mind off of missing Edward until his nightly phone call. My culinary classes were going well. At the end of my sophomore year at UW, I decided to transfer to Le Cordon Bleu—a Culinary Arts school. It was going to take me approximately two years to get my degree so Edward and I would have graduated around the same time. Also after that first week, Edward and I discovered the genius of Skype. Whenever possible—we put in the extra effort—we would video-chat with one another. It was a blessing to see his beautiful face as well as hear his sensual voice. Because we missed each other so intensely, a few of our Skype sessions would end in Video-Sex and mutual masturbation. It didn't even make me feel dirty: I missed him that much.

The day before I was supposed to jet-off to Paris to spend the week of my Thanksgiving break with Edward, I was a nervous wreck. To say that flying made me nervous was an understatement: I was petrified. Wishing that Edward could have been flying with me, I packed up my things: a weeks' worth of clean underwear and bras, ten different outfits (some dressier than others), my make-up bag, my toiletries bag, and some valium a doctor so kindly prescribed for my flights. As per usual, the TV was on CNN as background noise—a habit I picked up from my years of living with Charlie. He had always insisted on being well-informed and CNN was the closest thing America had to BBC. It had always surprised me that he wasn't willing to fork out the extra money on channels as to acquire BBC himself, but his thrifty habit stuck none-the-less.

Infuriated with packing—another one of my dislikes—I settled on making dinner for myself and contemplated calling over the girls and having one last girl's night before Paris. Thinking back on Edward's decision to attend the Sorbonne for a semester, I couldn't help but think of how ridiculous it was that I hadn't decided to attend a Culinary School in Paris, myself. After all, France was renowned for its cuisine and the quality of their chefs. In fact, I was dead-set against me accompanying him, something about him needing his last bits of freedom before graduating college and real-life got in the way. I had always known that I would end up marrying Edward; I just didn't think that we would be engaged until after graduation, similar to Rosalie's standards. Interrupting me from my lecture-like day dreams, my cell rang. Alice, read the caller ID. I always swore that woman was somewhat psychic, sensing when someone was thinking about her.

"Hey Al," I greeted as per usual.

"Bella—do not put on CNN…I am on m-my way over and I need to talk to you," Alice rushed so quickly I thought my ears were mistaken.

"Are you crying?" I asked rather incredulously. It was one thing to miss me for a week, but there was definitely no need for tears!

"Just DAMN IT! Don't put on the TV…trust me. You—you-y… you don't want to see what's on it. Jas-per is driving me oh-over." She huffed and tried to say some more, but clearly was in no condition to even speak so I placated her the only way I knew how.

"It's already on. But I'll turn it off, OK?" Leave it to Alice to be completely irrational. There was probably something on the CNN about terrorist activity in Europe and she was probably just freaking out that I was about to fly off to Paris in the morning all by myself, unprotected in her eyes. Everyone in our group worried about me constantly rather needlessly. It was as if they thought of me as some China Doll, breakable and always needed to be shielded. What they didn't realize is that usually the only thing I needed protecting from was my own clumsy two-feet. I was raised by a cop and a mother I had to parent: I was tough enough to handle the outside world. "OK Alice, I'm walking over to the TV right now to—," she cut me off with her screams of No!

"The breaking news of the crash in Paris continues to be updated—" The CNN reported spoke from the television. It now held my rapt attention; Alice's screams into the phone went mute to my ears. "Less than an hour ago, an American student studying at the Sorbonne University was hit by a car as he was crossing the street at Pont de l'Alma—the very same tunnel that Princess Di lost her life. He was carried into a Parisian ambulance with a white sheet over his body and is presumed dead. The French Police have refused comment, but a local reporter found the victim's ID lying in the street. His name is allegedly Edward Anthony Cullen from Seattle, Washington.—," a male correspondent spoke.

"That was just a replay of our broadcast from about thirty-five minutes ago," a new female correspondent corrected. "Parisian authorities still have yet to comment on the condition the American student was found in or whether or not he survived. Although, Phillip," she turned to her co-anchor, "Wouldn't you speculate that the victim was a fatality based on the usage of the white sheet?"

"Most assuredly, Candice." He replied with such conviction that a lie detector test would determine that to be a truth. I was no better than such a device.

.::.