AN: Take it easy on me. This is my first attempt at writing. I had a dream about a scene a built a story around it. My dream won't start until about chapter 5 because I had to set up the story.

I guess this is where I have to tell you I don't own twilight or any of it's characters. **sniff, sniff**

5/9/10 UPDATE!! Apparently, Ffn decided to delete some of the punctuation. The series of punctuation that I used to separate scenes was deleted due to this update, which seems to be the only change that needs to be made, so I just wanted to let everyone know to bear with me while I correct this story. It will take some time.


Chapter 1

Breathing heavy and sweating I wake up again. I glance at the clock for the fourth time…4:20am. Shit.

The funeral was seven months ago for fucksakes. I had to stop waking up every hour on the hour hearing the phone ring again as it had that unusually hot September night when the frantic voice of my mother-in-law, Esme called to tell me of the accident.

Apparently, the Michigan State Trooper at the scene figured it would be better to notify her instead of his own wife? What were they thinking? That I would have taken the news better from her? I don't know but I can still remember that call like it happened five minutes ago. The call that shattered my world.

**flashback**

I awoke with a start and jump out of bed from hearing "Copacabana" by Barry Manilow , that was the cue that my husband's mother was calling my cell phone. Normally, when I hear this song I let the call go to voicemail. Not that I don't like Esme, I loved my mother-in-law. She was like the mother I never had, considering my real mom left my dad and I when I was the tender age of 13 to pursue her new destiny…what was it? Oh yeah, Phil. No, Esme was just a chatterbox and I am what Edward referred to as "not a phone person".

Esme? It's 2:30 fucking o-clock in the morning, what the hell??? This can't be good, can it?

"Esme? What's going on? Is everything OK?" I say immediately. I hear silence and I think some…what? Moaning? What the hell, did she fall asleep on her phone and accidently hit m number on speed dial? I chuckle and am just about to start screaming into the phone to wake her ass up when I hear the moaning turn into full out sobbing.

Esme found her voice and all but shrieks. "Bella, it's Edward. He's been in a car accident. They won't give me any more information. He is at the hospital. "

"I am on my way." I whisper because I can't seem to breathe in enough air to speak normally.

"Would you like me to come pick you up?" Is she kidding me? "No, I'll meet you there." I say and then press the end button. Little did I know at that moment to what degree pressing that "End" button meant to my life.

**end of flashback**

I go to the bathroom to take care of business. The usual…toweling off and taking my anti-anxiety medication just to get me to calm the fuck down. At least, the crying has stopped. That is an improvement, I guess. I suppose I am just all dried up by now - I have not shed one single tear in months. I go back to bed, lying back just trying to get my breathing back to normal, I grab and begin rubbing the small trinket that I kept on my nightstand when I start to remember, yet again, how, I became a twenty-four year old widow and how I am pretty much all alone in this world.

**flashback**

As I sped towards the hospital, my thoughts were directed to that afternoon. Edward was getting ready for the afternoon shift at the hospital. He had been working as an Intern in the Pediatrics department at St. Mary's for the last year. We were discussing one of his patients, a six-year-old girl with Leukemia named Ashley. She had been in remission for over six months and she came back last week because her disease had advanced to a level that proved she would not be leaving the hospital again alive. Edward was determined to make sure that she was as happy as possible for her last days. He had planned for a magician to arrive about 3pm to entertain in the children's wing which meant that he would be starting his shift an hour early. He was just as excited as the kids and promised to show me a trick or two when he got home. With that he waggled his brows and squeezed my sides. He kissed me as I squirmed and wiggled in his clutches.

My last thought as I was turning into the parking structure at the hospital was did I tell him I loved him before he left today. I couldn't remember.

How much had I taken for granted?

I enter the hospital via the ER and searched for any sign of Carlisle. I don't see him immediately so I run up to the front desk when I notice out of my peripheral vision Alice and Emmett, Edward's brother and sister, sitting in a nearby waiting room. How did they get here so fast? I was easily 20 minutes closer to the hospital then either of them? I run over to find out if they knew what was going on and am stopped in my approach as they turn toward me. Their anguish was evident. Their faces are mixtures of pain, sorrow and what looked like…remorse? I looked into their red, swollen, tear-streaked faces and found the answer to my unspoken question. Edward was gone. Then I welcomed the darkness.

**end of flashback**

I was grateful that today was Monday. That meant that I was able to go to work. That is what I lived for these days. There were no evenings, weekends, get-a-ways, or vacations to look forward to, so I spent every moment I could at work. My career was what I lived for now. What used to be a way to pay the bills, my job as a Controller for a Fortune 500 company, became what inevitably controlled me. I got up at five-thirty in the morning and went through my morning routine which included feeding my three cats: Jack, Robbie and Patty. I showered them with the little love that I had left in me. Coo-ing and offering praise and pets to the only ones that meant anything to me anymore. Oh my God, I have become the cat lady at Twenty-four! I grabbed my drink and a muffin and left for the office. I was proud of the fact that I had never drunk coffee in my life. However, I wouldn't be able to function without caffeine, as I was useless until I had about half a can of Pepsi. So I guess I couldn't give myself that much credit for the "no coffee" policy that I had always maintained.

I am always the first to get to the office. Even though, we aren't expected to start until nine-o'clock, I arrive at seven because I like the peace that I get from an empty office. I get a respite from the pitiful looks and awkward conversations that come with losing the love of your life. Everyone seems to walk on eggshells around me. How is that helping me cope? I wondered.

I plug in my I-pod and delve into my work. By nine-o'clock I have already audited and released our first quarter tax file and reviewed the budget report that I will present to the executives later today. I am not looking forward to that meeting due to the extent of some investments that have not paid off, which in turn will not allow them to spend the money on the acquisition of yet another small competitor. Although I am only reporting my findings, it is a given that I will take the brunt of the room's animosity. My only comfort is that my boss, Mike, the Senior Vice President of Finance will be in attendance and will support me throughout my presentation.

As employees begin to file in the building I hear the innocent chatter of weekend reminiscing. I hear them talking about new restaurants and clubs that they ventured to or discussing the latest new blockbuster out at the theatre or the concert down at the Palace. Apparently, Kid Rock was there this weekend.

BFD.

Oh, face it, I am jealous. I have not been out of the house on a weekend for months except to get groceries and kitty litter.

As I was pondering this new development, in walked my one and only friend, Angela. I guess some probably wouldn't use the term "friend". We actually ate lunch together in the cafeteria everyday - and that was it. Angela is the Director who oversees the entire Accounting department; she occupied the office two doors down from me. We were approximately the same age, which made most of our interests similar. We both loved good music, no matter what genre. The same type of movies, and all that. We never lacked for conversation during our hour each day together.

I didn't bother to look up from my P&L reports, "Hey Angie, how was your weekend?" I had to ask even though I didn't really want to.

"Oh, it was OK. I didn't do much." She sounds a little forlorn so I look up to check her expression. Her eyes were downcast, and her mouth was turned down. "Why do I get the impression that it was not, in fact, OK?" She looks up at me and there were tears brimming in her grey eyes making them look almost platinum. As any decent lunch buddy would do, I get up and round my desk, grabbing her by her arms and giving her a gentle shake, "Angie, what happened?"

She tries valiantly not to let the tears come forth, "My grandmother died on Saturday." Angela's grandmother was ninety-two. She fell down last month and broke her hip, obviously she was not able to recover from her injuries. I was wordless; I did not know what to say to her…

Death.

I was not good with Death.

I feel my own eyes fill with tears and force back more memories that were trying to surface. I finally found enough words to say. "I am so sorry to hear that," and give her an uncomfortable hug. Then it dawns on me, "Why are you here today?"

"I had some reports that had to be dropped off to Mike for the budget meeting this afternoon. I just stopped by to say good luck with that."

"Yeah, thanks. I am going to need it."

We stare at our feet for a moment before she mumbles, "Well, I need to finalize the funeral arrangements. I probably won't be back until Thursday…" I stand in a trance as she stares at me in confusion. She had no way of knowing that she had used the "F" word.

For me, the "F" word is not "fuck", that word is welcome in my vocabulary and I use it effortlessly when necessary and even sometimes when it isn't. To me the "F" word is "funeral". I couldn't bear the word. I muster every bit of strength remaining in my body to reply "Is there anything you need me to do for you while you are gone?"

"No, I am all caught up on the analysis I was doing for Mike. He may have a few questions. Can I tell him to ask you if he does? I know you have an idea of where the data came from that I used to come up with my results."

"Yeah, sure, hey, um, take it easy." I say as I pat her back, she gives me a weak smile and left my office.

I slowly walk over and shut my door. I retreat to my desk and stumble into my seat. I fist my hands in my eyes when I realize that the memories would assail me now without permission.

My aversion to funerals should not have to be explained. I mean, who likes funerals? But the week of my Edward's was memorable for many reasons. Oh God, when am I going to get passed this?

**flashback**

The week of Edward's death passed by in a blur. Once I woke up after collapsing at the hospital I was told that Edward had died shortly after coming into the ER due to massive head injuries and major trauma to his chest. Edward was hit head on when an oncoming car had swerved into his lane. The driver of that vehicle also died. They believed that he had fallen asleep at the wheel since he did not have any alcohol in his system and appeared to also be driving home from work.

Emmett drove me home while Alice followed, they asked if I wanted them to stay. Hell no. I was not the type that required comfort when in pain. Edward was the only one from whom I ever needed comfort and now that was never to be again. I wanted to be by myself, to wallow in the moroseness of what would surely become my life's standard.

When I was safely in the confines of my house, I afforded myself the luxury I was prevented from indulging at the hospital. I screamed, loud and anguished and when I was done I screamed again and then again until I had no voice left, tears were streaming down my face and I did not have the strength to keep myself standing. I had fallen into a corner in the living room where I had eventually succumbed to sleep. I stirred from my corner the next morning when I heard a soft knock on the door. I opened it to find Esme and Carlisle. Let the preparations begin.

Esme and Carlisle planned the complete service as I sat in the funeral home office in an almost catatonic state. When the funeral director asked for a copy of the death certificate, Esme pulled out a large binder and extracted an official looking document. The piece of paper that irrevocably said my four-year marriage was abruptly over. I looked at the document taunting me on the desk, picked it up absently and started reading. Edward Anthony Cullen, birthdate: August 23, 1984…I read further down. T.O.D: September 19, 2008 1:45am. Mothers name…

Wait, WHAT??? Time of Death was 1:45 am?


AN: Let me know what you thought!