A/N: I have more letters in my head. Will have to wait and see if anyone is interested in them making it to print.

Disclaimer: Sadly I am not Stephenie Meyer. Twilight and these characters belong to her, I'm just borrowing them for a short while. No copyright infringement is intended.

Prologue

When I arrived home from my hunt there was a package sitting on my couch. I had thought it strange that the rest of my family was absent, but the truth was that I didn't pay much attention to them these days. I was existing in a haze. I hunted only when absolutely necessary and the rest of my time was spent in solitude, alone in my room. I wasn't very good company and I tried to spare the rest of them the ordeal of trying to deal with me.

The package piqued my curiosity. No address, no markings. Just a plain, brown box. It was then that I heard Alice approaching the house. In a flash she was standing before me. The look on her face matched her thoughts—pity, anger, sadness. I was about to ask her what was going on when she spoke.

"Earlier this afternoon a courier arrived. None of us was expecting a package."

I waited for her to continue, a feeling of apprehension creeping up my spine.

"He indicated that he had been given instructions to deliver this package to Edward Cullen."

The look on my face must have been one of confusion, but Alice remained silent, both her mouth and her mind. I couldn't figure out what was going on, and this drawn out one-sided conversation wasn't helping.

"Edward... It's from... Bella."

My heart froze, my mind raced. I felt dizzy and overwhelmed and sick—feelings that I was unaccustomed to as a vampire. I immediately hurled myself at the package, unwilling to wait a moment longer now that I knew it was from her, when suddenly Alice was standing between me and this most important box.

I could tell that she was torn about interfering, but, let's be honest, that was nothing new for Alice. Her mind suddenly went blank before she began reciting the Gettysburg address. I was contemplating a physical altercation to remove her but knew that it would be pointless—between her ability to see the future and my ability to read minds we were too evenly matched.

Alice cocked her head to the side, contemplating her next move. Making decisions and watching as the various futures played out, all the while blocking me with her patriotic ramblings. Finally, she let out a sigh and stepped to the side.

"I'll be back when you're ready to talk." And suddenly she was gone.

Without further delay I tore into the box. I don't know what I had expected to find, but I was still surprised to find that the box contained a journal. And as I pulled the cardboard back, there it was... a faint but undeniable trace of her scent. It set my throat on fire, despite having just hunted, and made my chest ache. Without delay I opened the leather cover and began to read.

Chapter 1

Dear Edward – I woke up today. Really woke up for the first time in months. I don't know what prompted this dreadful epiphany, but I know now... you're not coming back. You aren't going to change your mind or realize that you made a mistake.

I've spent the last few months in a semi-conscious state, a sort of high-functioning coma. I couldn't accept that you were gone. I was holding on to hope, hope that you would return to me, hope that you still loved me, hope that everything could return to how it was. You would give me that crooked smile that makes... made me melt and you would tell me that this was all just a terrible misunderstanding. We would be together once more and everything would fall back into place. But it hasn't happened and suddenly now, I know that it never will.

There was nothing special about today. The sky was gray, the trees and ground were the

same deep velvet green, I dragged myself through school, made Charlie dinner, did my homework. The same haze that has clouded my eyes and mind hung about me as I trudged through the day. But something clicked and reality has suddenly permeated my fog.

I've spent countless hours replaying memories of our time together, particularly toward the end. I've tried to determine where and when things went wrong. I've made desperate attempts to pinpoint the moment you stopped loving me. I've wondered how your family could have left without saying goodbye—I know that your feelings changed, but did theirs? Alice had become my best friend. Carlisle and Esme were like parents to me.

I've wondered why you came into my life at all if it was only going to fall apart the minute that I let myself feel happy and secure. I have tormented myself with these questions for months and I'm no closer to the answers than I was that day in the woods. I kept imagining that if I could understand what happened then maybe I could fix it. But I can't. And even if I knew how to fix this I don't know where you are and I'm fairly certain that my detective skills would fall short when the Cullens have decades and centuries of experience at living off the grid.

I can't do this anymore, Edward. I can't continue to live like this. It isn't healthy for me and it's killing Charlie. He watches my every move—analyzing me, trying to determine if I'm better or worse from day-to-day. Am I eating enough? Do my night terrors allow me to get any rest? But regardless of what he sees, the truth is that every day is the same; I am always the same.

Broken. Devastated. Defeated.

I don't know how to do it, but I'm going to try to let you go. I'm going to try to remember how life worked before I walked into Biology that fateful day. I'm going to take your advice and try to pretend that you never existed. I'm going to stop imagining our reunion, stop reliving our relationship, stop embracing the pain. I'm going to try to remember how I felt before I knew that vampires were real. That magic and monsters do exist.

I don't know how to go about any of this, but I thought that writing this letter might be a good place to start. A way to get this out without having to confide in someone. Who could I tell? There would be so much editing required of a conversation or a therapy session—I can't imagine that it would help.

So this is my attempt at goodbye. I suppose I'm a little slow. You said goodbye to me months ago. But you have the benefit of moving at vampire speed. We mere mortals are a little slower and I guess it's taken me time to process what you had to say and catch up to where you were that day.

Even as part of me is angry and bitter and hurt, I hope that wherever you are, you are well and happy. And I hope that one day, some day, I will be too.