A/N: This is strictly a companion piece to my story Stages. It is written in a very abstract form as all journals and diaries are. It will make no sense if you don't read Stages first. I will only post a new journal entry after an important scene in stages to give you some kind of understanding of Bella's state of mind. Just remember. You will know more than Edward at first. So if you like my story as is, please pass on the journal.

I am here only to serve you wonderful readers.

BTW- I don't own anything other than a mortgage.

Bella's Journal

I am broken. There is no other word to describe me. And I can't even place all the blame on him. I'm the one that got drunk. I'm the one that sat in the room when the bong was being passed around, knowing full well that even though I didn't take a pull, I was breathing in the shit that lingered in the air. I let him direct me to his room, where he said I could sleep it off. I don't remember drinking that much. I have only been this drunk before once. It was high school and then I drank with a purpose. I wanted to forget what an ass Mike was.

Thinking back though, the situations are completely different. Then, it was just after playing miniature golf with my friends and ex-boyfriend, Mike. He kept making comments, suggestions in front of everyone, that I was loose, a slut. I was never special to him. I didn't mean anything to him. I remember, we were on the back nine of the cheesy mini-put when he put his club handle down in to the hole and swirled it around and around, looking dead at me, mouthing the words, slut and bitch and whore.

The most comical thing about it is that I never had sex with Mike. I chickened out every time. I wanted to. All those raging hormones coursing through my system, I wanted nothing more than to join the club, the club all my friends belonged too. But I couldn't. I wouldn't take that last step, and Mike hated me for it. When his patience ran out, he called me a tease; he mocked me, making me feel inadequate and faulty. He wanted me to suffer, to make me feel dirty. And he did, even though everything he said was a lie.

What happened last night, at the fraternity house was also dirty and ugly, but in a completely different way. But I knew this feeling. I remembered it from high school. But this time, I could clearly see the signs. I could only blame him for so much. I had drunk the beer. I had gone into his bedroom. I didn't just go home.

He took complete advantage of me and I let him. I said no, but not loud enough. I struggled, but with no strength. I let this happened. And after everything was said and done, all I could think about was Mike's words from high school. I was a slut. I was inadequate. Something was wrong with me.

The more you review, the more I write..... Yeah, I know it's blackmail but you guys are my muse...