Stephenie Meyer owns any Twilight characters and Twilight plot lines that may appear in this story. The remainder is my original work. Copyright 2009-2010 by tmr. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization. Please don't plagiarize.
Chapter 1: Beautiful Lies, by tmr
Location: Western State Hospital, Lakewood, Washington
The dim humming of the bright florescent lights was lulling me back to a state of semi-consciousness. The stench of bleach and industrial cleaners still burned my nose and throat as I shuffled down the hall behind my "escort".
"Isabella?' I didn't ever bother correcting anyone anymore. Not anyone in this place. My name was Bella. Just Bella. But here, where they allowed me no freedom, no secrets. Here, where they told me I was ill and needed to stay sedated. Here, where they told me my love was untrue and my memories lies. Here, I didn't want them to know me – Bella. Here, I was alone. Completely alone.
And, I was completely broken.
The woman dressed all in white repeated herself again. "Please keep up, dear." My escort was a hulking woman, as if I could possibly fight her with my barely hundred pound frame. Like I could even try to in this drug-induced haze.
This thickening fog in my mind was the worst part. It faded my memories, the memories I was trying so desperately to cling to – because I knew they were true. I knew Edward was real.
I knew he was a vampire.
And, I knew he loved me, once. My throat thickened just thinking the words.
Trying to resist the medications got me nowhere. I was simply restrained and injected against my will. I kept resisting and my dosages kept increasing.
I needed a way out of this hell, but every path was blocked. They wouldn't even let me starve myself. I had tried, in earnest, but that just ended with me strapped down to another bed with a feeding tube shoved down my nose and throat. When Charlie saw me that way and I saw the absolute horror in his eyes, I knew I had to find a better and faster way to do it. At least, for his sake.
I wanted to hate Charlie. Hate him for putting me here. I was successful for awhile, but then I realized – even in this haze – that he did the only thing he could do as my parent. When they found me incoherent in the woods on that day, he was terrified. He sat in the rocking chair next to my bed every night to comfort me when I awoke screaming from my nightmares, from my reality. Edward was gone.
But when, the truth escaped my sleeping lips. When I released my – our – secret, Charlie had no other choice than to think I needed to be in a place like this. So, even though I wanted to, I couldn't hate him. He was suffering almost as much as I was. He was broken too. He thought he had failed me. He thought he had let my little mind break on his watch.
"Here you are, dear." My escort ushered me into my room, my cell. I didn't even bother to look up at her or acknowledge her presence. I shuffled past her watchful eyes and willingly re-entered my own personal pocket of hell.
The tiny room was nearly devoid of color. I vaguely remembered learning that white actually contained all of the spectrums of color, and that it's opposite – black – was the absence of any color. But that was a lie. In this stark white room, there was no color. No hue. No life. The only thing that broke up the white paint was the stainless steel of the bed frame, the sink and toilet. It was, for all intents and purposes, a cell. I had started out in a much more "normal" room, but my behavior ended me up here. And that was fine with me. I was in hell, so I didn't want to pretend I wasn't and sleep in some goddamned pastel room.
"Lights out in 10 minutes, Isabella." Her condescending voice came through just before the door clicked shut behind me. Fuck you. A few months ago, I would have said it out loud, but I didn't have the energy anymore.
And then the lock snapped closed. It was a sound I loathed and adored at the same time. I loathed it because it meant I couldn't get out, I wasn't free; I was trapped. But, I adored it because it meant I was finally alone. No more forced therapy sessions. No more visitors. No more.
I walked to the three-inch wide window that was etched with swirls, essentially making the outside world fuzzy shadows and speckles of light. But I didn't care. I knew that somewhere, someplace far away from here, Edward was living.
I love you, Edward. Forever. My unending promise could no longer be spoken out loud either. Not from exhaustion, because lord knows that I would proclaim my love for him with my dying breath, but because of the seemingly innocuous black lens and microphone secured high in the left corner of the room. The evil spies were even covered in plexiglass, as if I could have reached them.
Laying down on the thin, plastic covered mattress, I curled into my usual defensive position – knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my shins and tucked my head into my curled body. The lights were still humming above me, but I closed my eyes and willed myself to let the sedatives work. Stop fighting it, Bella. Stop fighting it and maybe tonight you'll dream of him. I slipped into the blackness.
I didn't sleep for long. The first of my nightly babysitters stepped to the door of my cage. Through my closed lids, I could see the beam of light from his flashlight rake over my body, my face, and erratically around the rest of the small space. Satisfied, the light disappeared from the small door window.
The drugs were less potent now and I was wide awake. Happy for the brief hours of clarity I had this time of night, I was actually grateful for the flashlight wake ups. My mind was my own, at least for these few precious hours. I rolled over to face the wall incase the babysitter returned; I wanted to keep my eyes open as I thought about my plan. I stared at the cinderblock closest to my face, the white paint was bright even in this low light. Ok, the plan is starting to work. Now, you must be patient. Be patient, Swan. It is going to take time for them to believe you completely. It's going to take time for them to believe your declarations of sanity and recants of past psychosis-induced "lies". It is working. It has to. I let myself smile at the thought.
**Six Weeks Later**
"Isabella, you are making fine progress. I am glad your father, mother, and step-father could all join us today. Aren't you?"
Jane is a fucking bitch psychotherapist that I wanted to strangle to death with my bare hands and beat that smirk right off her childlike face, but – alas – I needed her.
I swallowed and forced my most sincere voice. "Yes, Dr. Jane. I am happy that they are here." Knowing I needed the three other occupants of this office to believe me as well, I turned my face to them and added, "I am really happy that you're here, Charlie, Mom, and Phil." I rested my eyes briefly on each of their worried faces as I said their names, just to add a bit more sincerity.
"And?" Jane smirked as she urged me to continue on our planned "reunion". Reunion my ass. These three people left me here to be brain washed and mentally die. They left me here. Just like he did.
"And, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about everything that has happened." I sucked in a breath to prepare myself to spew the lies. "I am so very sorry that I've made such a mess of things."
Charlie, Renee, and Phil were shocked but physically trying to hold their reactions back; I could see Charlie's jaw clenching from across the room. Jane must have told them to remain calm. Bitch.
Jane shifted her weight away from me, thinking I was done, but she froze when she heard me take in another deep breath. This part she wasn't expecting.
"And, I know that I was ill. Dr. Jane has really helped me see that. It was all so confusing in my mind." I feigned the most innocent mask possible. "At the time, I really believed those crazy things I said; they seemed real to me. But, now, I know what's real. And, I know I had a brief psychotic break."
Jane half-heartedly tried to interrupt me, but I raised my hand motioning her to remain silent. "Dr. Jane, please, you've helped me so much, I need to tell them." She smiled widely at me and then at my family. Dumb bitch. So easily manipulated with a little flattery.
"I know I needed help and that you did the right thing by forcing me to get it." I forcefully swallowed the bile that rushed to the back of my throat.
"I am so sorry for all of the things I said to you when you brought me here. Please forgive me. I know I can work through this; I know I'll need help when I leave here, but it would be so much easier if I didn't have so much guilt for how I treated you. Can you please forgive me?" Damn, that was good. It sounded really convincing out loud. I had been rehearsing it loosely in my mind for weeks; I didn't want to memorize it and sound too rehearsed.
The four adults surrounding me instantly, and nearly simultaneously, broke into tears. Charlie quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks, as if he was ashamed of them, and rose from his chair. He stopped after one step in my direction to look at Jane, effectively asking her permission to touch me. She must have affirmed his intentions because the next thing I knew I was being crushed by Charlie's bear hug.
Muffling his tears into my hair, his voice was so raw, "Bells, my baby. We forgive you. We are so happy to have you back." His emotion was so overwhelming I, in an ode to Jasper, let them consume me and allowed tears to fill and quickly spill from my eyes.
Renee and Phil had now joined the bear hug. "Oh, Bella. There's nothing to forgive. We love you so much." Good. They believe me.
After a few more moments of unbridled sobbing and hugging, we returned to our seats. Jane was beaming at all of us. So fucking proud of herself for my "breakthrough".
"Isabella, now that was very brave. How do you feel about what your family said to you?"
Without missing a beat, I sniffed dramatically and in an uneven voice answered. "I am so grateful that they've forgiven me." But, they are not forgiven. I didn't hate them, but I hated what they did. I hated what they've forced me to become and what I now had to do. But, I had no more options.
After a few more well-timed and semi-rehearsed lines, I had them all on board. The discussion turned to my release date, out-patient therapy, and medication. On the last topic, I protested slightly – as they would expect me to – but then, as I had planned, I "saw" their logic and agreed to "give the treatment plan a chance". My ass. There would be no treatment in my plan.
Charlie, Renee, and Phil exited the office with smiles and promises to see me in a few days. Turning to me, Jane rested her boney hand on my knee. I wanted to rip it off of her arm and smack her with it, but I smiled at her instead. "Isabella," God, I hate how she repeats my name – well what she thinks is my name – every time she starts a new thought. Like I forgot who I fucking am. "Isabella, you did wonderfully. I know that was a lot of emotion to take on. How are you feeling? Do you fell like some medication would aid you in relaxing?" I instantly tensed at the idea of being trapped under that thick fog again and having to claw my way through it.
"Dr. Jane, it was a lot to take, but I feel…" pausing for dramatic effect, "I feel really great. I am a little tired, but it feels good to feel tired and happy and excited. It's just nice to feel like me again." I forced my lips up at the corners and hoped it looked like I was smiling, or at least smirking.
Patting my leg, "Isabella, that it wonderful. I don't see the need for resuming your meds now. But, please do not hesitate to ask, if you start to feel overwhelmed. It is normal to feel that way. You were on decreasing doses for over two months, but your body may need more time to adjust. Ok?"
"I promise. I'll let you know if I feel overwhelmed." My lies came so easily to me now.
As I was escorted back to my more hospitable cell, I made sure to engage in conversation with my escort, no matter how devoid of life she might be. "Well, here you are Isabella. It sure is nice to see you smiling these days."
Walking through the threshold of my pastel cell, I grinned back through the door. "It feels good to be smiling. Good night." She returned the sentiment and closed the door. I spun quickly on my heel and nearly skipped to the window. I pushed aside the pink and beige curtains and looked out into the darkness. The lights of Seattle were far in the distance; it could have been any city, but to me it was a beacon. A signal of my triumph. I had done it. My plan had worked. I will be out of this place in a few short days and then – I slowly filled my lungs with the pleasure of the thought – I can be released from my hell. Soon it will be over. I wrapped my arms around my chest and squeezed myself with happiness.