Hi guys. If you are new to my stories, welcome. If you've read my stories before, welcome back :) My previous story ('A Different Beginning') was an alternate universe, and I really enjoyed doing that. So I'm here again, but this time with a New Moon AU.

What if Charlie had sent Bella for help? What if Bella found herself in an adolescent unit being treated for depression? Who will come to her aid? Well, that's what this story explores.

The first chapter is shorter than the rest will be (I already have chapter two written) basically, just so I can set the scene. Updates for this story should be about once a week, athough what with exams coming up, they may be a little longer. But this is me, and if you know me from before, updating is an addiction (like writing) and I do it when I really should be doing other things.

Of course, I do not own Twilight; Stephenie Meyer does.

And finally, for this very long authors note which I apologise for, enjoy and don't forget to review :P

Charlie's fist came down on the table. "That's it, Bella! I'm sending you home."

Slowly, I lifted my head from the soggy cereal that was drowning in milk. His face was red, and pained, but I didn't quite understand his expression. My finger gripped the spoon harder, stirring.

"Home?" I croaked, my voice rough from its lack of use.

"Home, Bella. I'm sending you back to Renée, back to Jacksonville." His voice was bordering on clear, but I could see the amount of energy it took him to say it was crippling. As if he'd been planning it for a while… rehearsing it in his head, over and over. "Maybe a mother's touch will help."

"You don't want me anymore?" I asked, my tone dull, my throat hoarse. My eyebrows knitted together with hurt.

"Bella, I'll always want you," he exclaimed with a sigh, obviously not liking the turn in conversation. I wondered if this reaction was one he'd imagined. Had he written out practice scripts or something? "But you aren't you anymore. It's like he took you with him," he whispered, sitting down in the chair opposite me.

"I am," I protested, flinching even at the way he insinuated who he was with such distaste. Charlie had realised some time ago not to mention him by name, but the mere name had my heart pining, the wound being ripped back open and the memories of abandonment come flooding back, even though they are always present in my pathetic human mind.

Charlie saw my reaction, and his eyes gave me an apologetic look as he looked at the wounds he couldn't possible heal. I guess he thought the only way forward was to continue talking to me about what I'd lost.

"You don't do anything, honey. I just want you to be happy, to live and not be so miserable." Charlie sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair.

This was so unfair; I was trying, I really was. I went to school, I went to work. I got good grades, and I did the chores. I did everything I could. But it was just so hard…

"I'll try harder, Dad. I don't want to leave."

Charlie sighed and his eyes met mine. But I couldn't hold his gaze, and my eyes fluttered back to the gooey cereal, its flavour having diffused into the milk, the loops almost losing their shape.

"Bells," he began, but then paused. "Bella, I think you need help."

"I'm fine," I insisted, biting back the tears that threatened to fall.

"I can't let this go on, Bella. It's not just you that you're destroying, it's me too! I have to watch you spiral further and further down. You're so lifeless!"

I sat still, watching him through cloudy eyes, but I was so defeated that I couldn't move. I was exhausted; sitting here, trying to smile, trying to eat was just so draining. When I said nothing, Charlie spoke.

"Bells, I spoke to Dr. Gerandy and, well, he recommended some places for you. If you really don't want to leave, there's a place in Seattle. It's like a clinic for teenagers who, erm, who," he stuttered and I glared at him with wide eyes, "who suffer from depression."

Depression? Was that what this thing was? This empty hole that I kept falling deeper into? Because it sure didn't feel like it depression, but rather abandonment, but then it couldn't be? I was angry and upset, but it was to be expected when you've been abandoned. That's what unworthy people get - I was being punished for my short period of happiness… with him.

"There are people who you can talk to about it, who can help. It's called an in-patient unit, I think," Charlie said, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to remember.

"I don't want to," I muttered lowly like a child.

Standing up, I took my bowl to the sink, drained the milk, and scraped the soggy contents in the bin.

"I'll wash it later," I mumbled, placing the bowl and spoon in the sink and turning towards to door. "I have to go to school."

"I'm not letting this drop, Bella." Charlie sighed as I closed the door behind him, blocking out his incoherent mumblings and his worrisome expressions.

And he didn't.

The school day passed with the events of the day blending into one another, blurring in my mind, a routine I could do with my eyes closed. I'd been doing it for four months, each one passing with an agonising stab of pain and grief that I had to wade my way through.

Lessons passed quickly; I attempted to concentrate in classes. It gave me something to think about. Lunch time was difficult when I saw the empty gaping table where… the Cullens were supposed to sit. It taunted me, and I hated every moment.

I forced smiles at people I passed who stared at me with sneering looks, or concerned looks. I muttered my apologies to people I bumped into by accident when my mind froze over for a second, and thanked the lunch lady when I paid for the meal I wouldn't eat.

When I got home and pulled my truck onto the driveway, Charlie was waiting. As I stalled the engine, I saw his cruiser in the driveway. That never happened. I usually got plenty of alone time before Charlie got home, and I liked it that way. I could cry without an audience.

"What are you doing home?" I asked, a hint of curiosity breaking through the monotone that I'd spoken in for so long.

"I took the day off work. I've been researching clinic. I'll take you tomorrow. Don't worry; it's all taken care of, Bella. Dr. Gerandy has agreed to it," He explained, trying to make the words sound hopeful. If anything, they made that metaphorical hole deeper. My dad thought I belonged in a loony bin.

"You didn't have to take time off for me," I muttered quietly, looking at my feet that seemed to be glued to the floor, preventing me from running anywhere. I wouldn't have been able to run anyway; my energy level was zero because I hardly ate, and hardly slept…

"You're my daughter, Bells."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Charlie cut me off by holding his hand up, the desperation to get his point across evident in his eyes. So I stood, rigid in the doorway, school bag still in hand, my coat still on, listening to him.

"It'll be good, Bella. It'll help. I know you don't think so now, but things will get better… I promise." He paused for a moment, and that was enough silence for my thoughts to seep back in. Charlie didn't know anything. He promised, but what was he promising? A healed heart? That was impossible. "When your mom left, that was a pretty rough time for me. But I got better. I got through it and I want to help you do the same," he said. My eyes never left the floor.

I heard Charlie come towards me as his feet shuffled quickly across the floor. His feet made their way into my line of sight; he was standing parallel to me. Looking up, I saw his red face, and his hands grasped my shoulders, shaking slightly.

"I can't watch you like this anymore."

Carefully, I eyed Charlie up and down. He looked as exhausted as I felt; his eyebrows doubly creased as before, and his eyes sunken. I knew I'd caused it all, but I didn't care. I just couldn't care anymore. It hurt to care so much, it ached to feel; I just wanted to be numb.

"Fine. Take me," I whispered with my voice hardly audible.

I saw Charlie double back, wondering whether he'd heard me right. I wanted to tell him that no amount of therapy would heal this gaping hole, but it wouldn't do any good. He was so sure this would work; just because my life had come crashing down around me, all hope and happiness lost, it didn't mean I could do the same to him.

If I was admitted to this place, then I wouldn't have to pretend to smile, or pretend to be happy. I could sit, and simply be. I couldn't tell the truth either… that would definitely give me a no-return ticket to a padded cell.

"I have to go do homework." I mumbled the excuse, taking my school bag and pushing past him.

But I didn't do homework. I didn't even take my schoolbooks out of my bag. I threw it on the floor, and yanked off my shoes, scattering them on the mounding pile of clothes. It's not as if I wore many of them; I chucked the same old sweats on when I got home from school, and I didn't go anywhere else to wear anything different.

Climbing into bed, I pulled the covers over my head. Maybe I could force myself to sleep. Maybe I'd collapse simply out of exhaustion. The strain to appear normal was too much for me, the strain of pretending.

Before, I'd thought I was useless. I'd known I was useless. But what hurt now was that Charlie did too. Everyone was slowly giving up hope; first him although he'd never really loved me in the first place, then me, because it wasn't worth it without him, and finally Charlie. And I was just going to go along with it.

So there it was, the first chapter to this story. Your comments, I would really appreciate, so please review :)

Oh, and incase you didn't notice, the first line was taken from NewMoon, so Stephenie Meyer owns; the rest was all mine though xD

Thank for reading! xx