Author Note: This is my first attempt at fanfiction. Please be gentle, and review!! The subject matter may disturb some readers.

Prologue:

I never liked slumber parties. My best friend, Alice Brandon, was having one tonight, and I really didn't want to go. But my mom, being the social butterfly that she was, insisted. "Get out there and socialize with girls your own age, Bella! It will be fun," she argued. I grudgingly agreed.

Mom dropped me off at Jessica's, kissed my cheek, and told me she would be there tomorrow to pick me up. I trudged up the stairs to Jessica's door, which flew open before I'd even had the chance to knock. Alice stood at the entryway, bouncing with excitement. "Bella! You're here! C'mon, let's go downstairs!" Alice pulled me downstairs and I was soon immersed into a world of makeup, truth or dare, and pillow fights.

At about 11 pm, I was spent. I really just wanted to go home. Alice was trying her best to convince me to stay overnight, but I refused. Finally, she relented, and I made my way to her phone. I dialed. "Hello?" A gruff voice answered.

"Hi, Dad, it's Bella. Can Mom come and get me from Alice's now? I want to come home."

"Sure thing, Bells. I'll send her on her way." I could hear protesting from my mom in the background, but Charlie ignored her and said, "Be ready in 15. Love you."

I hung up the phone and told Alice. She pouted at me, but eventually gave me a hug goodbye and headed back downstairs. I sat on the couch in front of the big bay window in her living room, and waited. And waited. About an hour later, I saw the police cruiser screech to a halt in front of the house. Charlie must have decided to pick me up instead. I walked out to the car, opened the door, and then saw the look on my father's panic-stricken face.

"Dad? What's-"

"Your mom is in the hospital, Bella. Let's go, it's not looking too good."

Charlie reached across me and shut my door, ordered for me to put on my seatbelt, and then sped all the way to the hospital. We sat in the waiting room for 4 hours, waiting for news about my mom. Charlie explained to me that she had left right after I had called, and was on the backroads that led to Alice's house when a semi came around the corner, swaying all over the road. At the last minute, she had to swerve off the road, leading her car into a bank full of very large trees. I immediately began feeling guilt for calling, but I didn't tell Charlie, knowing he would tell me "it's not your fault". It WAS my fault.

About 2 hours after that conversation, a weary looking doctor came out and sat next to us. "You're Renee Swan's family?" He asked. We both nodded.

He took a deep breath and looked at Charlie. "I am really sorry to inform you that even though we did everything we could, we could not save your wife."

Charlie looked at the doctor in shock for about 5 seconds, and then pulled me towards him. He was crying. Charlie never cried. I began to cry to, knowing that she was gone, and it was all my fault.

* * *

10 years later, I found myself laying in bed, in the apartment I shared with Alice, going over that night in my head. Charlie's heartbroken look. Charlie calling family and friends and telling them the news. Me, sitting in on our sofa in the front room, silent and unemotional, knowing it was, and would always be, all my fault that my mom was no longer alive.

I tugged open my nightstand, and looked for the little tin I kept at the bottom. I opened it. There was an old grocery list, the last one my mom had ever written, tucked inside, alongside her favorite pearl necklace. I picked those up out of the tin, and found what I was really looking for. Sharp and shiny, I held it up and stared. I sighed, and pulled down my pajama bottoms, exposing my thigh. I examined the "decorations" I had already made there. Breathing quickly, I lowered the sharp razor to my thigh and pressed it against my skin. I welcomed the distraction of pain. I began dragging it across my pale skin, soon seeing the scarlet red that was my release.

I felt relief, and soon after soundless tears began streaming slowly down my cheeks.

A/N: Bella self-mutilates. I used to. So if you feel lost, please get help. Things will get better, they did for me. REVIEW! Tell me if I suck or not.