Disclaimer: I'm only going to say this once. Ready? Okay. I seriously don't own anything.

Also, when a name is in italics, it's their POV. :)

One

Bella…

I was in an awkward position; flat on my back, lying in a cramped space with a hard floor and walls. My arms were pinned to my sides. The walls were so close that my fingers brushed against it.

I felt … not quite right. Like I wasn't completely there. I felt fragile, light, as if I had no substance.

There was a musty, forest smell in the air. Like Jake. I opened my eyes. Strangely, everything remained pitch dark.

I opened my eyes wider, seeking out some source of light in the never-ending gloom, but found none. Suddenly I doubted my own eyes.

Had I even opened them?

Confused, I tried to swivel my head back and forth, but my neck was stiff and refused to budge.

And then, with a jolt of horror, I realized that I couldn't move.

I could feel my heart rate accelerating, my chest heaving with panic. But my body wasn't moving. It was completely still.

My mind was reeling.

What was going on?

Suddenly, my shocked thoughts were interrupted by a grating, clanking sound. It sounded both smooth and rough; like a snake rustling over dead leaves.

Schhhhh…

Then with a bump, I felt myself being lowered down.

I scrabbled at the walls, but my fingers couldn't move. But through the numbness, I could just barely feel something. I forced my stricken mind to think of what I was touching, what the walls were made of.

Wood.

I could feel the hysterics pulling my under.

Schhhhh…

High, high above me, I heard a droning, male voice. It was unrecognizable. He sounded muffled, and I had to strain my ears to try and listen to what he was saying.

"… and family of the deceased, we are gathered here today…"

My breath came faster and faster.

"… to mourn the unfortunate death…"

As I gazed through my closed lids, I finally saw the light.

"… of a beloved daughter…"

I was dead.

"… a treasured friend…"

I couldn't move my body because – and here I felt as though I was truly going crazy – this was only my soul.

With growing enlightenment, I realized that this wooden box I was in, was my coffin.

And the grating sounds were the chains lowering me into the ground. To be buried.

"… Miss Isabella Swann."

This was my funeral.

I felt the walls, or rather, the sides, of the coffin pressing into me. My mind began to drift, just like how it did when I was drowning. I couldn't draw enough oxygen into my lungs.

The suffocating dark began to bloom into white.

I felt my soul slipping away.

I struggled. I didn't want to go. Yet. So I desperately ignored the mounting panic, and fought to remember why I was here. Dead.

I saw flashes of images flicker before my shut eyelids.

The colours were bright and rich. The images, my memories, were filled with golds, pearly whites, bronzes. And a lot of red. My eyes felt stained with the sheer amount of red.

Through my sub-consciousness, I felt the gentle thump as my coffin settled in the grave, where it would stay for generations to come.

I felt dizzy, dehydrated, drained. The sparkling images slowly faded into the pure blinding white that could only belong to one place.

Heaven.

Then, with a flash, I remembered how I died. I remembered the acute pain, like white-hot needles sticking themselves into every inch of my body. I remembered hurling myself through the glass window, the wind flying past me, and the sickening thump as I hit the ground. Head first.

My stomach rolled.

And as I felt my soul detaching itself from my still body, and rushing towards the perfect place above, I remembered my true love's last words to me.

"If I could, I would take your pain and carry it myself. You're strong. You won't die. I'll get you through this. I promise."

But no, I wasn't strong. I was weak. My mind desperately tried to excuse my weakness.

It was so painful. I had to get away from it… somehow.

But my excuse was just as weak as I was.

I flew towards my destiny, and my last thoughts were saturated with overwhelming feelings of grief, useless longing and love.

Forgive me Edward.

I know, the idea of Bella dying is unthinkable, but please, don't get turned off. It gets better, I promise!