Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I just wanted to see how Bella spent those blank pages in New Moon.

Moondarkening
Chapter 1

October

When Edward left, I felt like I was going to die – and not only that; I really wanted to. The pain was intense. It felt like my heart had been punched out of my chest, and I was left with unbleeding, decaying shreds of flesh instead. I was unable to think or see through all the pain. My mind and senses were numb; even the death wish was never put into words, it was just there. When a few weeks had passed, I felt that I could probably bear it a little while longer, for Charlie and Renee's sake. I knew they would be devastated if I died, even more so if I died willingly. I could make myself carry on in a hollow shell, because I had to, because I had no right to ruin my parents' lives with guilt just to make my own pain stop.

The day Renée came to get me to move back in with her, apparently on Charlie's request, I refused to go. I begged and pleaded for Charlie to let me stay, promised to be a good daughter and all that. I could not leave the only place were he had been. I could not go. That is what I remember of it. I have no recollection of thrashing and screaming and going into hysterics. But on that day, my decision to go on, with or without Edward, was made. I won't say I never looked back; rather, I would never allow myself to even think back. Not to that.

So I made myself get up in the morning. I made myself eat and go to school, do homework, all of it more or less zombie-like. The irony of being turned into a zombie by a vampire didn't occur to me. My movements were forced, my actions mechanical. I was unable to be truly present, unable to focus beyond my own agony. It would be an understatement to say that my heart had been ripped out. It was more as though someone had torn out a major artery, leaving the open end hanging out of me, my lifeblood had been poured out of me. It was as if my bond with Edward had been cut, and that was what was bleeding. I felt like I was going to go insane with grief.

Had he even been real? Had I just dreamed the whole thing, the whole family and everything we had been through?

I would find myself sitting on my bed or by my desk, studying the silver-blue scar on the back of my hand. It hadn't been a dream; I had the proof right there. That thought reminded me of a poem I had read once, one about dreaming that you picked a flower, and then waking up to find the flower in your hand. What was that poem? Somehow it seemed very important that I remember. I stared down at my desk, concentrating hard, but I couldn't remember what poem it was nor who wrote it. That reminded me of something else, some European thinker who once said something about a regular person who dreams all night that he is king, will be as happy as the king who dreams all night that he is a regular person.

"Bella? Bella!" The biology teacher's sharp voice pulled me out of my considerations. I stared at him blankly. What? Oh, class. School. Right.

My head turned automatically to my right, where Edward no longer sat beside me. I felt a stab at the realization, again. I just couldn't get used to him not being there. Or maybe I just couldn't get myself to think of it as normal that he wasn't there, as he should be. I heard the teacher sigh in resignation. Apparently I had missed his question several times. What occurred to me then was that I had registered these things clearly, as if my few minutes of intense focus had carved a millimeter-wide space in my mind where it was calm. Silent. I only had time to realize this before the space collapsed under the weight of my feelings of loss and devastation. I couldn't help it, he wasn't there and he never would be. My eyes were burning, the same instant that I realized that everyone was staring at me. The students in wonder, the teacher with pity in his eyes. I took a deep breath and collected myself, retreating back into my numbness.

"Bella," he said to me after class. The room had emptied before I had finished gathering my things. "Don't you think you should see a doctor? You seem very depressed."

That obvious, was it?

"I'm fine," I lied, tonelessly. He frowned at me.
"Pascal, by the way," I added out loud, just remembering.
"What?"
"And Coleridge." I fled the classroom before he could say more.

Half-running through the hall, I tried to sort through those thoughts. Maybe if I could dream that he was here, I could be happy a third of the time. Maybe even half the time. I would never want to wake up, but I would believe that he was there, and on some level that would have to be good enough. Maybe that could make it bearable when he wasn't, knowing that I would see him again in my dreams. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was looking forward to going to bed. He would not be there, but he would almost be there, if it was up to me.

Going to sleep that night, I tried to imagine him there with me, in his – our – meadow. I tried seeing it all in my mind – his golden irises, his brilliant smile, his velvety voice humming my lullaby. His hands stroking my face and hair, his reassurances that he cared too much about me In the end I couldn't. The only image of my Edward I could conjure in my mind, was the last one I saw; black irises, pained expression, saying that he wasn't mine after all, and that he had to leave.

Why did he have to leave? He could have lived here and not been my boyfriend. He could have broken up with me and I could still have seen him every day. I could have lived like that. I would have been fine with that. Compared to what I am feeling now, I would. I opted not to think about it. It felt like my chest was going to explode all over again.

I knew I was selfish. I knew I had to snap out of it for Charlie's sake, but there was no snapping out of it. It was more that, the more I tried to free myself from him, the more he was stuck. It was as if the hollowness in me still tried to behave like a living heart, still tried to mimic beating. My own ghost heart. Months would pass before I would dare to try this again.

I tried to find solace in simple, everyday tasks, but I soon found that both cooking and cleaning went on autopilot for me. I was capable of doing them and still be unable to wrestle my thoughts away from Edward. Even homework went on autopilot, it seemed. I was just going through the motions, and I knew it, although my mind felt too numb to process that thought all the way through. One afternoon I was in my room trying to work on algebra problems, my mind still on him, and then it occurred to me. This was too easy; I had done this already. This chapter of the text book, on algebra, I had done just enough of to understand what it was about, so I didn't need to focus my whole mind on it in order to do it.

I slammed the book shut. The memory of my little hard-won moment of peace was still in my mind. I obviously needed something more complicated to focus on; something that demanded all of me, so the numbness in my chest, and my entire body, would have a chance to heal itself. The last part of the thought, heal itself, made me giggle involuntarily. The sound of it was frighteningly hollow. There is no healing for me. I knew it was the truth. I had no hope of ever healing. Even so, maybe I can be somewhat happy again. The mere thought felt like a lie. I mean, I quickly amended, maybe I have some hope of feeling some peace, even if it is not happiness that awaits me. That felt more likely. I could live with that. Or so I thought.