It has been four months since he had left me alone in the forest behind my house. Four months of depression. Four months of emptiness. My life has gone downhill rapidly in this time. It hurt too much to think about them so I had to find certain ways of coping. I have found only two ways.

Drugs.

And cutting.

I have taken many drugs to help; they allow me to think about him and the others without the deep, hollow feeling in my chest making its self known.

My favourite drug is cocaine. I inject it into my left arm, the crease of my elbow is dotted with needle puncture marks. At times I sniff it but I get a bigger effect by injecting it.

My stash of drugs has grown rapidly since I started using drugs. Marijuana, cannabis, ecstasy, heroin, LSD and crystal meth. All the drugs that help. He would never approve. But this is what I have resorted to.

It's his fault.

All this time and Charlie is none the wiser that I'm sneaking illegal drugs into his house. Honestly I'm surprised he hasn't caught me yet – I do it often enough. He hasn't noticed that he is short on money either, the money I use to buy my little pieces of heaven.

As if the drugs weren't enough to satisfy my needs. Both of my wrists, my right forearm and beneath my collarbone on the left side are littered with cuts. Large and small, deep and shallow. I don't know why I do it, but it helps. Charlie doesn't know about this either. But it hurts emotionally too much not to do this.

It's his fault.

So here I am. Sitting on my bedroom floor with everything I need.

Razor.

Syringe.

Bandages.

Everything I need. I pick up the syringe full of cocaine, preparing to inject myself and have a happy feeling for a little while and forget all my worries and bad memories.

Bella, don't be stupid, you promised.

Edward's voice echoes around in my head, scolding me for doing something reckless when I said I wouldn't. That was then, this is now. And I need this.

With precision that I have acquired from months of practice, I skilfully insert the needle into my arm and push the drug into my blood stream.

Please don't do this.

Edward's pained voice rang in my ears.

"I can't help it," I said out loud as if he was there it talk to, "You left and I need to do this."

The drug started to take effect. I feel on top of the world. I remember that Edward used to love me, kiss me and hold me close. The rest of the family loved me too, we had so much fun and had great times. I love being able to think about them without it hurting.

My happy feeling started to dwindle and I came crashing back to reality again. I discarded the empty syringe and made sure Charlie would not find it my wrapping it in what looks like a used tissue.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. I took a look at my scarred wrist, my throat swelled up with emotion and longing for Edward and his family and my eyes started to water. Picking up the little razor blade, I prepared to once again make a slit in my thin, almost transparent skin when I heard Charlie's police cruiser pull into the driveway.

I panicked, Charlie cannot find out about this, he already tried to send me back to my mother, but I wasn't having it – I threw a temper tantrum like a three year old child – so Charlie let me stay.

I scooped up my blades and shoved them into the top drawer of my dresser – Charlie would never look there.

After making sure they were completely 'invisible', I trudged out of my bedroom and down the stairs to make Charlie's dinner.

"Hey Bells, what's for -" Charlie stopped short when he saw me. I'm not sure what I looked like, I have not looked in the mirror in a while.

My attitude, appearance and way of life have changed dramatically over four months. The only time I smile is when I'm on drugs and can think without pain, even then it's not real, fake happiness never compares to reality. But my reality sucks. Depression over comes me all the time. If Charlie asks me something I reply in the shortest possible way, always avoiding eye contact, I cannot bare to see the sorrow and sadness in his eyes when he sees how I have changed – in his opinion – for the worst.

It is the same at school. My grades have fallen and I am now falling all of my subjects. I no longer have any friends and no one talks to me. I have a new reputation around there – "Emo Kid". I completely understand why they call me that and it does not bother me. This is who I am now. No person or vampire can change that.

"Never mind Bella, I'll just order pizza." Charlie said, he came over to me and asked me to look at him. I did before he continued, "Bella. I have news for you." He paused. I could see him struggling inside his head like he was trying to phrase what he was trying to say correctly, "Okay, here it is. The Cullen's are back."

My whole world came crashing down instantly. The tears gathered quickly behind my eyes and my breathing became heavy and I started to hyperventilate slightly. My knees buckled beneath me and I fell to the floor, the tears overflowed and I started to cry.

Charlie knew well not to intervene and leave me alone while I poured out my heart, here on the kitchen floor.

They can't be back. He said that he did not love me and that they didn't either. I can't do this anymore. I ran upstairs and grabbed my bag and threw my blades into it. I pulled on my black skull sweat bands onto my scarred wrists. The rest of my cuts were covered my black clothing – my knee length black gypsy skirt with over the knee black socks and black flats. My deep, midnight blue corset-like top is covered with my black short cardigan.

Rushing down stairs I headed for the front door and to my truck. Charlie yelled something to me from the front door but I didn't hear him as I was so focused on my destination.

I pushed my old truck as fast as it would go. As I got closer to the turnoff I pressed my foot even harder on the gas pedal, causing my old truck to splutter and choke. I found the turnoff as easily as if the last time I was here was just yesterday.

I came to a sudden stop at the end of the driveway. In the garage of the huge mansion, were all of the cars I remember – the yellow Porche, the black Mercedes, the Jeep and the red convertible, lined up as if they were there all the time.

The large ball of emotion swelled in my throat once again but stronger this time. I hopped out of my truck and walked slowly towards the house I remember so well.

I reached the bottom of the porch steps when I heard the front door swing open.

A.N. reviews wanted please. Hope you enjoyed.